Assassin of the Heart
by SoSaysL
Summary: Fakir was proving to be surprisingly difficult to kill. Nobody is quite who they seem to be in the dangerous world of an assassin, and before Ahiru knows it she is caught in a web of lies, love, and betrayal. Eventual Fakiru.
1. Ch 1: The Innocent Killer

**Chapter 1: The Innocent Killer**

The dark night hid her small, lithe figure behind the building she knew he would walk by in moments. She drew another easy breath, having practiced this several times and knowing she could not fail. Tucking an orange-colored strand of hair behind her ear, she shifted the weapon expertly in her grip. The footsteps were coming closer, and this would be her chance.

His slender shadow approached, obscuring the light from the street lamps that reflected on puddles. Finally, he passed her hiding place.

"BOOM!" She said, just loud enough for him to hear, her loaded pistol aimed at his defenseless back. "If I were an assassin, you'd be dead."

The young man turned around, half-smiling, long strands of hair hanging over his eyes. His hands rested in the pockets of his long black coat. "Ahiru, you _are_ an assassin."

"Well, if I was one out to kill you, that is."

He paused, folding his wiry arms. "Forgive me for being caught unawares at our rendezvous."

"It's your own life we're talking about."

"And yours." Suddenly, he had lunged forward, and a silver dagger was now at her cheekbone. Skillfully, he had managed to hide it from view with his hand, yet she didn't have to look down to know what it was from that jagged edge.

Ahiru jerked away, laughing. "You should feel lucky you're my partner-in-crime. I'd have killed you before that knife touched me."

"True, true. Knives are rather messy, and you know my preferred method."

"Mmm. What would've I done if I hadn't met you?"

"Let's be blunt; you would have led a worthless life as a dancer." He said teasingly. "But I saw your true potential. You look so innocent that hardly anyone would ever suspect you of anything."

"What are you talking about? I am innocent!" Ahiru answered, stressing the word _innocent_.

"Of course. Just as innocent as you look, darling." They exchanged a light kiss, her fingers weaving through his feathery pure white hair playfully.

"So? What did you want to tell me, dearest?" Ahiru asked.

His words became almost inaudible. "You have a new target. Our client is particularly high-ranking—the reward is huge—and the target must die without _any_ suspicion on the part of _anyone_. It will take a great deal of planning before we're able to execute the operation."

"How exciting!" Ahiru returned, her childish joy almost tangible. "What we do is truly an art. There's not just the killing…but making it look like happenstance is part of the fun!"

She tilted her head slightly. "Is it alright if we simply make the murder untraceable? Like we did with the florist? It wasn't much trouble, and for all purposes no one could tell who it was."

"This is not a simple murder." His violet eyes became stone-cold. "I don't think you understand. It will be highly difficult…like I said…no suspicion. From anyone. We can leave no question unanswered, no loose end that might give cause for doubt. It must appear to be a regrettable calamity, but one that occurred because of bad timing."

"I'm sorry." She answered, blue eyes wide and unassuminng.

He sighed. "You must be more careful. Sometimes, I think you're too young for this."

"No! I'm almost twenty! Not that much younger than you!" Ahiru answered indignantly.

"Do you doubt me?" He asked dangerously.

"Never! I've always trusted you." Ahiru answered. "You made me into what I am now."

"Then you'll trust me when I say that you will fail on this mission if you do not tread with utmost caution. Yes, our last operations have all been successful, but that one at the opera almost went terribly wrong. This one…if we can pull this off, the implications will be enormous."

"I will do everything I can."

"Tonight, I will only give you his name. We can meet later to discuss the details."

Her smile was radiant, although only the faint contours of her face were visible in the dim light of the streetlamps. "All right. Give me his name."

"Fakir Strauss."


	2. Ch 2: Fakir, the Arrogant Director

**Chapter 2: Fakir, the Arrogant Director**

"All the maidens cannot bear my beauty." Femio intoned. "And yet I cannot stop myself from stealing the love from this world! Ah, what a sinner I am! How terrible it is, to be this gorgeous and lovely, yet be cursed with such a—"

"Tendency to give long, embarrassing monologues in front of your superiors?" Fakir asked sharply, eyes narrowed.

The girls burst into flutters of giggles at the sight of Fakir, clad in a dark business suit, leaning against the doorway.

"Forgive me!" Femio said, bowing flamboyantly. "Fakir, you must have mercy upon this poor sinner!"

"You are supposed to be _teaching_ a _class_." Fakir said in a lethal tone. "Back to work." He paused. "And you shall not address me as _Fakir_. I am the _Director_."

"Pardon my terrible crimes! I shall do everything I can to—" Femio was cut off midsentence by the sound of the door slamming in his face.

As Fakir stalked away, fuming, he heard girlish titters behind him.

"Terrible. Only a month away from the production." Fakir muttered under his breath. "The dancers do not have the _time_. I do not have the _patience_. Surely he could have the _courtesy_ to deprive us of his histrionics for a short while."

He strode down the hallway to his meeting. As always, being the director of the most prestigious dance company in the nation did not come without annoying meetings with idiots who thought they were gifted with incredible genius.

* * *

This time, however, the meeting was with a total lunatic.

"You have to believe me." The idiot said, pushing his spectacles over his nose. "Director, you cannot continue like this."

"You underestimate me. I thought you were supposed to be one of the most brilliant musical geniuses the world has ever known, and instead here is this pitiful idiot." Fakir returned icily. "Please get out."

"You're in danger. The entire company is in danger. Please listen!"

Fakir was losing patience, shifting his weight to the front of his black swivel chair. "Look Mr.—"

"Autor."

"It hardly matters _what_ your name is when you lack the intellect to realize that you are being an annoyance. Kindly remove your presence."

"But don't you think that you might have enemies?"

Fakir's lips pressed into a thin line. "I am not interested in hearing your ridiculous conspiracy theories."

At another insistent look from Autor, Fakir said, his words brutal and sharp, "Spare me your foolish thoughts and leave."

Autor ran a hand over his glossy black hair. "Director, I cannot explain myself. It is true I have no evidence to strengthen my case. I simply offer you advice I hope you will heed."

Fakir was through with this irritating nuisance. "Good bye. Your idiocy has scarcely been paralleled by the numerous other idiots before you. Remove yourself from my office."

Autor sighed and rose from his rickety, uncomfortable wooden chair. "Fine. You'll regret this, though. I promise you!"

"Get. Out." Fakir snarled, his hands splayed wide on his desk in a display of power.

With a last look at Fakir, Autor shook his head regretfully and left, closing the door respectfully behind him.

Fakir leaned back, straightening his emerald green tie. "Another moron." He said viciously, dark eyebrows furrowed. "What world would we have without the pitiful existence of these morons? My I.Q. must have dropped several points simply by _listening_ to all this idiotic nonsense."

Just then, a knock sounded on his door.

"Enter." Fakir called, his voice harsh.

A slender dancer in a sapphire leotard came through the door. Her bright golden hair was tied into a bun atop her head, and she kept one hesitant hand on the doorknob. "Director!" She said excitedly.

Fakir's lip curled into a smirk. He wouldn't answer such an idiot.

She continued, as he knew she would. "Is it true that we're all in terrible danger?" She sounded…excited?

"Hush!" Another voice whispered from outside. "Lillie, you're going to get into trouble! We don't even _know_ who that guy _was_, and now you're going to get chopped into mincemeat by the Director!"

"Apparently you have powerful enemies!" Lillie prattled on. "And we're all going to die soon! It sounds so, so tragic! Tell me, Director, are you prepared for your oncoming death?"

"Lillie, let's go!" The voice begged. "Please!"

"If not, that's all right." Lillie said, batting her sky-blue eyes at the ceiling. "We're all scared of death! I can hardly blame you for it! Oh, look at how mad he's getting! You really have to see this, Pique!"

"Lillie, he's going to burn you alive, I swear!"

The corner of Fakir's mouth twitched, and his eyes leapt with disdain. She hardly seemed fazed as she hid giggles behind her hand. "Your thoughts, Mr. Director?"

"I will not tell you once more." He didn't bother to keep his voice quiet. "LEAVE MY OFFICE THIS INSTANT, YOU NINCOMPOOP!"

Another purple-haired dancer appeared and wrapped her fingers around Lillie's unwilling wrist. "Hey!" Lillie protested as she was unceremoniously dragged away.

Fakir collapsed in his chair as he shook his head furiously. They were all morons. All of them. Simply ridiculous.

* * *

"So Lillie actually went into his office! And she _told_ him what that one guy...I think his name was Autor... had said!" Pique told Ahiru over mouthfuls of sandwich. "She says, 'Mr. Director, what do you think of your oncoming death?' and he says, 'GET OUT OF HERE YOU NINCOMPOOP!' And she wasn't going to leave unless I hadn't dragged her away!"

"You're lucky you hadn't been killed." Ahiru said to Lillie warningly.

Lillie looked up from contemplating her sandwich and giggled heartily.

"But you don't understand! It was so funny!" Lillie answered happily. "He was practically spitting flames at me!"

"The Director's too arrogant, if you ask me." Pique said matter-of-factly. "He thinks he's better than everyone else. Sure, he's only in his twenties and still _the Director_, but that doesn't mean he can treat everyone like they're morons!"

"How's your shop going?" Lillie asked Ahiru. "Still no business, as usual?"

Ahiru sighed, trying to look downcast in spite of inward jubilation at her newest mission. "No buyers today, I'm sorry to say."

"It's a pity you quit ballet." Pique said, nudging Ahiru with her elbow. "Then we could've all been dancers at the company."

"It's only been a year. You might still be able to return so we can watch you fail horribly!" Lillie sang.

"It's all right. Don't worry about me. I make enough money to keep me going." Ahiru said warmly. "Your company is more than enough to keep me happy, and you know I love sharing this apartment with you guys."

"I guess." Pique said. "Anyway, I feel bad for you sometimes. Stuck in your shop selling jewelry all the time…being a dancer's much more fun."

Ahiru had never wanted to lie to her best friends, but her true profession was not a matter to discuss with _anyone_, especially not with a talkative girl like Lillie. The two girls both thought that she was a simple shopkeeper, although that hardly took up any of her time. Neither had ever seen Mytho, and Ahiru wanted to keep it that way. The two spheres of her life were kept as completely separate as she could manage.

"…I heard from Freya that the Director came in during their class while Femio was talking! And then Femio tries to call him _Fakir_, like they're good friends, but the Director cuts him off like nobody's business, and"

Ahiru's eyes widened.

"Wait, Fakir?" She asked as innocently as possible.

"I guess. We call him the Director all the time, and practically _nobody_ calls him Fakir."

"So what's his last name?"

"I think it's...something that starts with an s..._Strauss_?"

"Mm, whatever. I'm going to continue my story. So the Director walks in, and-"

Ahiru wasn't listening. She had the perfect opportunity, and she could hardly dare believe her luck. It wouldn't be much of a difficulty to get close to Fakir Strauss—for he was the Director! Through Lillie and Pique, Ahiru could learn as much as possible about his behavioral patterns and eventually execute the task with relative ease.

Every person had a weak point, and it was _finding_ the flaw that enabled Ahiru to create the best possible plan to dispatch him effortlessly. Arrogance would be his downfall. "Just you wait, _Director_." Ahiru murmured. "I'm coming for you."

* * *

"Mytho!" Ahiru said happily. "I have something amazing to tell you!"

He strode over, looking as mysterious as ever as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "How are you, sweetheart? Pity to see you don't have much 'business'."

"Oh, quit." Ahiru answered jokingly. "Now let's talk real business, shall we?"

"We shall." Mytho replied. Her heart gave a little flutter at his intense, earnest expression. Nevertheless, she kept on talking.

"Fakir Strauss…is the director of the ballet company of Pique and Lillie dance at." Ahiru continued, trying to contain her excitement. "It would be too easy for me to monitor him and track his routine behavior. What say you, Mytho?"

"This is the Director, Fakir Strauss." Mytho handed her a picture, which she was sure to study carefully. "You should be able to recognize him. Now,"

Ahiru's eyes widened in sudden realization, and she clutched at Mytho's shoulders. "Mytho. Mytho. Listen. Pique was saying that there was this guy, Autor, who came into Fakir's office to warn him of danger. He sounded really earnest, although apparently the Director just brushed him off and called him idiotic. Does that mean…they know about what we're planning?"

"Until now, we've ensured utmost secrecy. Our client has been clear there is to be no suspicion surrounding his death." Mytho murmured. "Perhaps this has something to do with it. What did you say his name was?"

"Autor. I don't know his last name." Ahiru whispered.

"If we find out who he truly is…maybe, a little later, he can suffer a tragic accident as well. If you can find out more about him, it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to target him as well. We'll see." Mytho said calmly. "For now, all that this means is you need to be very, very surreptitious. Arouse no doubts anywhere in anyone. Be careful. Soon we shall have our reward."

Ahiru nodded and hugged him tightly, glad that he was there to comfort her. "Thank you." She said into his shoulder.

She couldn't know that in his eyes brewed the beginnings of a scheme. "Ahiru, I know we've never tried this before, but...can you be particularly seductive?"

"No." Ahiru laughed. "Not even. I'd probably trip over my own feet and then blush beet red as I ran out of the room giggling like a schoolgirl."

"I guess that wouldn't work, then." Mytho answered, stroking Ahiru's crimson hair.

"No, it wouldn't." Ahiru said, somewhat relieved.

"I've done a bit of research, and only selected visitors are allowed into the building past the reception room, where I suspect there is a high amount of surveillance. It is best if you enter with your dancer friends to avoid suspicion. For now, I advise you go to the company under the pretense of bringing Pique or Lillie something. Skulk around only if you are sure you won't be caught. If you have no opportunity to do so, just _listen_ to what is being said. Gossip can be surprisingly useful. Report back to me. Got it?"

"Of course."

"Stay safe, my little duckling." Mytho disentangled himself from her arms with a fond smile. He then turned and left the small shop, the bell tinkling behind him.

"I love you!" Ahiru called after him, although he was already gone. "I won't let you down, Mytho." She said to herself. "I promise."

* * *

"Hey, can I come with you guys?" Ahiru asked brightly. "I'm closing the shop today."

"Uh…if you want to stay in the changing rooms for a really long time…" Pique said awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess you can come."

"I just wanted to see what it's like." Ahiru lied. She would be able to obtain a rough layout of the building as well as a mental picture of where Fakir worked.

Lillie gave a dramatic gasp. "I'm sure Femio will be overjoyed to hear that! He doesn't spend much time actually _doing_ anything, and we have him today before rehearsal. I know he'll be only too happy to let you sit in on class!"

"Just come in a ballet leotard and tights. You still have your pointe shoes, right?" Pique asked.

"Well, I'm not that good anymore…" Ahiru's voice trailed off. _No, I don't want to do that. I'm just here to formulate a plan. What kind of an assassin would I be if I entered and started doing ballet? _

"It'll help you blend in." Pique stated. "And you won't get into trouble. Femio will cover for you as long as you pretend to be _madly_ in love with him." Her voice took on a sarcastic tinge.

Ahiru was beginning to get the feeling that this Femio guy was more than a little strange.

"Okay. I'll come tomorrow." Ahiru agreed, although she had no intention to wear ballet clothes (that would just get in the way!) or actually come to class.

* * *

"I refuse to take you." Lillie huffed. "You have to put on your ballet clothes."

"Lillie!" Ahiru pleaded. "Please!" Upon an adamant look from Lillie, Ahiru turned to Pique beseechingly. "Pique?"

"You won't be able to actually enter without us." Pique observed dryly. "You have to be a dancer to actually get past the recepetion room. I'm not going to go against Lillie, because if I do she'll never stop making fun of my nonexistent love life. You should just do as she says, Ahiru."

Ahiru sighed. "Lillie, I don't want to."

"Come on!" Lillie said, folding her arms. "It'll be fun!"

Regardless of how Lillie viewed _fun_, Ahiru had the feeling that this would be a major mistake. _It's all right._ She told herself. _I'll just change when I get there._

She couldn't have guessed that once she was there, having obligingly put on her ballet outfit, Lillie would take her by the wrist in an unyielding hold-that girl was surprisingly strong-and give her a massive push through a doorway so that Ahiru tumbled onto the ground in a heap. Ahiru's reflexes were as quick as ever, and she had to repress the instinct to yank her hand away and sprint out like a ninja. No, she had to appear normal no matter what the cost.

"WHY, Lillie!" Ahiru grumbled.

"I want you to dance with us!" Lillie said brightly. "You were _so_ good at it, and it's a shame that you haven't!"

Ahiru looked up to behold what seemed to be the dance teacher holding his hand out to her so that she could rise from the floor. Smooth brown hair, and...indigo, maybe, was the correct color for his eyes. Delicate, refined features. Wearing mismatching green-and-blue clothing with...polka dots? He shook his hand in front of her impatiently, waiting for her to take it.

"And who are _you_, mademoiselle?"

Ahiru turned around to shoot a frustrated look at Lillie before answering. "My name is Ahiru."

"Mademoiselle Ahiru! We are delighted to have you. Please, join us!" Femio said, sounding as sincere as his comical voice would allow him to be. Ahiru nodded at him grudgingly, cursing Lillie for allowing this to happen.

"Thank you." She said. "I'll just watch for today, it's all very well, I promise—"

"No!" He seemed gravely offended. "You must dance, little songbird! You must!"

Ahiru bit her lip. "I've got to go, and it's been a while, and I don't think that it would—"

"It'll be a nice warm-up." Femio replied emphatically, as Ahiru shook her head. "What? I am doing you such a huge favor, and you are refusing me? Maybe I should go talk to the..."

Ahiru didn't allow him to finish his sentence. "I think I will dance today. Thank you ever so much."

It was halfway into the lesson, and Ahiru's muscles were starting to tremble. Although she had remained as slim as ever due to her strenuous occupation, she had to admit that she was out of shape for such a rigorous class.

Femio was not helping. "Raise the leg higher, Miss Ahiru! Point that toe! Very good!" Ahiru ignored the scandalized looks from the dancers around her as she sweated profusely, even though she tried not to push herself too far. After class, Ahiru would escape. The soreness would be unbearable tomorrow, she knew.

"Now for a water break!" Femio announced. Pique and Lillie rushed to Ahiru, who had dropped to her knees in a state of panic. _If there was anything to learn about the Director, I wouldn't be in any shape to hear it, _Ahiru thought furiously._ So much for gossip. Lillie, I hate you. This wasn't what I bargained for._

"Don't worry, the worst is over!" Pique assured her. "This is always the part when he spends at least fifteen minutes getting sidetracked. It's going to be all right."

"But she looks like a dying kitten! So tragic, and yet so cute!" Lillie exclaimed. "Ahiru, you must remain strong!"

Ahiru clenched her teeth, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Really, Lillie? Really? A dying kitten?"

By the time they had drunk their water, Femio had already begun on another long tale. Ahiru was hardly listening. _Where's the Director? I've been listening, but so far the talk hasn't been very interesting. I haven't even gotten around to making a mental map of the building yet. Maybe I can escape now..._

As if in answer to her thoughts, the door flung wide open.

"At it again, I see." The young man said frigidly. Immediately, Ahiru recognized him from the photograph and was sure to take in every minute detail of his appearance. Strong jaw, dark eyebrows, deep green eyes, olive skin. Black ponytail, neatly tied. Lean, sinewy build. Not unhandsome, but seemed to be permanently grumpy. Clothed in expensive-looking black business suit, grey tie. Polished shoes. Perhaps in early twenties, 22 to 23. _He reminds me of Mytho_, she thought absently, although she wasn't sure why she had drawn that comparison. _Only more…grouchy._

Femio froze in shock and then began to bow. The girls burst into fits of laughter. Judging from the shared glances of the dancers around Ahiru, apparently this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

"I'm so sorry, Fakir!" Femio exclaimed. "This poor sinner! Have mercy!"

"Please have some respect." The Director sneered. "For the thousandth time, I am not _Fakir_. Try to teach these unfortunate dancers so they can warm their muscles before rehearsal."

_That settles it. _Ahiru thought. _I'm calling him Fakir._

"But they have been, I guarantee it!" Femio returned. "Just look at her!" With horror, Ahiru realized that his outstretched hand was pointed at her.

Fakir's death-glare found her. Ahiru squirmed uncomfortably.

When he spoke, each word was like a stone dropping onto the ground. "What. Is. She. Doing. Here?"

"Forgive me, Director." Ahiru said, her voice quiet and unassuming. Now probably wasn't the time to attract attention or call him 'Fakir'. "I was a dancer for—"

"I didn't ask for your life story." Fakir said testily. "Now be quiet and go home."

"I've been trying to tell you." Ahiru replied, her voice now rising. "I wanted to return to ballet and Femio kindly allowed me to dance in one of his classes!"

_That was quite possibly one of the worst lies I have ever told. _

There was no way she was returning to ballet. No. way. But something in her strove to shove that arrogance in his face, no matter what the cost.

"Did you obtain my permission?" Fakir asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, that's fairly obvious, isn't it?" Ahiru returned snappily.

The entire room of dancers was in shock. This girl was talking _like this_ to the Director?

"Ooh, she's really going to get it now." Lillie whispered to Pique as she clapped her hands silently in glee.

Fakir stared at Ahiru for a brief moment before striding over. With a single movement, he clenched her upper arm in his tight grip and hauled her after him out of the room.


	3. Attempt 1: Carbon Monoxide Poisoning

**[a/n]** let the attempts on Fakir's life begin. Some will be more creative than others. Don't really know how Ahiru has access to all this ludicrous equipment (in this chapter and chapters to come)...

**Attempt #1: Carbon Monoxide Poisoning**

Ahiru had to resist the urge to yank her arm away and retaliate with a brutal kick to the abdomen or a punch to the jaw. Instead, she allowed herself to be dragged into what she assumed was his office.

His office was clean, tidy, and ordered; not a single paper seemed out of place. Ahiru's eyes wandered to the one object that seemed unusual: a small picture, which lay on the mahogany desk, of a beautiful, dark-haired woman with lovely eyes who was clothed in black.

"Who's she?" Ahiru asked, pointing to the picture.

"I never gave you leave to ask inappropriately personal questions." Fakir answered snarkily.

Ahiru sighed, looking away.

"What were you thinking?" Fakir growled. "You can't just _waltz into a class_. We are a professional company, miss."

"That doesn't give you license to be so rude!" Ahiru scowled right back. "At least _try_ to _seem_ like a nice person!"

"Niceness didn't get me to this position." Fakir said harshly, pointing at the chair opposite from his. "SIT. Now, tell me what happened."

"I told you everything!" Ahiru's voice had become hoarse. "I wanted to return to ballet and try out a class to see what it was like!"

"How long have you _not_ been dancing?" Fakir asked smugly.

Ahiru looked at the ground as her hand instinctively hovered at the small knife concealed at her hip. "A year."

"Well then. Let me tell you something. Do I look like a dancer to you?"

Ahiru remained defiantly silent. _Judging from his muscle tone, I would guess he has danced at some point or continues to dance. Perhaps._

"I dance _every day_." Fakir breathed. "_Every morning_. I have my own practice room here in the company building, although nobody's ever seen me dance here. It's how I changed the art of dance, because I know what it's like to be a dancer. And if you quit for a year? That's it. You're never going to get that strength back."

"I can!" Ahiru shouted, even though she agreed with him wholeheartedly. "I will, and I can! I'll show you!"

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow arrogantly.

"I'll show you. I'll work every day, and I'll—"

"What a futile task. You do not even comprehend your own idiocy."

"If you allow me to come every day with Pique and Lillie, I'll become just as good as the rest of the dancers!" Ahiru promised fervently. "I will! And then you'll have to allow me to be a part of the company!" Of course, he wouldn't live that long. What mattered was that she was allowed to come every day.

"Hm." He considered, haughtily looking at her over his nose. "If you fail, then you'll work here as a janitor. We need one of those."

"Wait, no!" Ahiru said determinedly. "Then…if I succeed…"

His conceited expression infuriated her. "Then you'll have to dance in front of everyone in the company!"

Fakir gave a quick intake of breath. "That will never happen, idiot. All that will happen is that I'll acquire a new cleaning girl."

"So, you agree?"

"In a month I'll check to see if you're 'just as good as the other dancers'. Your services as a janitor will begin the Monday afterwards. Now get out."

Ahiru shot him a dirty look before scrambling out of her chair and away.

* * *

"Ahiru, you have to tell us what happened." Pique begged.

"Yeah! Why aren't you dead yet?" Lillie asked indignantly.

"I'll explain it to you later." Ahiru said quickly, as she quietly changed into dark clothes and a soft pair of slippers. Her bright red hair was covered with a shapeless hat. "Go on without me, guys!" She called. "It's all right!"

"Fine. But you _have_ to give us the whole story later." Pique returned crossly.

Grudgingly, her friends left.

It wasn't very difficult for Ahiru to steal down to Fakir's office. At exactly five, he burst out the door and headed away from the studio, oblivious to Ahiru who was stealthily following him.

She knew that finding his house was essential so she could decide where best to carry out the killing. To her surprise, he didn't head for the parking lot but began to walk down the street, presumably towards his house.

Ahiru waited before she began to walk after him, making sure that she remained out of his line of sight and thoroughly inconspicuous. After a ten-minute walk down the busy streets, he produced his keys from his jacket pocket and stepped towards a small, nondescript building. Ahiru's eyes scanned the layout of the house. It would be extremely difficult to get in; from all sides the one-story house was surrounded by towering buildings, and any helpful trees for hiding in or spying from were absent.

Ahiru's lips drew into a grimace. It looked like this would be more difficult than she had thought.

* * *

"You are _so_ lucky." Pique said.

Lillie's mouth gaped wide open. "I can't believe it."

"You guys have to help me." Ahiru said pleadingly. Inwardly, she was exuberant. Fakir would be long dead before she had to become a _janitor_. She would collect her reward and move on to the next target.

Yet, in order to evade suspicion, it was imperative that her efforts gave the impression that she was trying to fulfill her promise to the Director. For some reason, she couldn't think of him as the Director anymore, or even Mr. Strauss…he was now simply _Fakir_.

* * *

"Isn't it nice, darling?" She asked.

Mytho seemed unsettled. "Mm. It might provide a cover for you. Just don't be too conspicuous."

"I won't be."

"You mentioned he dances every morning, all alone. That might be a good time to ensure that a pipe filled with poisonous gas leaks into the room. Perhaps a heavy object could fall on him. Our usual methods won't work this time, so we'll have to be wary."

She nodded trustingly.

"Sweetheart, what do you think of the Director?" Mytho was looking directly into her eyes now with a penetratingly clear violet gaze that she couldn't tear herself away from.

"Well, he's not the nicest guy I've ever met." Ahiru answered jokingly.

"No. I'm serious. What did you think?"

"He's arrogant, rude, mean, selfish, and snobby." Ahiru said decisively.

Mytho relaxed and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. "So you didn't find him attractive at all?"

Ahiru would have been lying if she said 'yes', so she wormed her way around the question. "I don't think he's even remotely likeable."

"Good. You know I love you."

"I love myself too." She replied teasingly.

"Ahiru!"

"Just kidding, dearest. Love you too."

* * *

This was more than she had bargained for. Ahiru positively wanted to _die_ the next morning. Her muscles screeched in pain against each other, her bones weary.

"GET UP AHIRU! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!" Lillie exclaimed, yanking at her arm.

"Leave me _alone_." Ahiru murmured sleepily. "I can't move!"

"Too bad, 'cause ya got yourself into this mess!" Pique said, tugging on her other arm.

"Don't remind me." Ahiru groaned.

"COME ON!" The two girls screamed in unison.

Somehow, Ahiru made herself presentable. The agony was almost unbearable. Each step she took scorched through her calves, her stomach, her thighs, even those tiny muscles in her feet she hadn't known she was using.

"I want to die." Ahiru whispered, leaning against the wall. "I can't do this." _I'm an assassin, not a dancer! And it's all my fault. _

"You can and you will." Lillie said. "Now come on!"

The entire room of dancers was clearly shocked to see her there. "Miss Ahiru! You…made it." Femio said uncertainly.

"Please, let's take it easy today in this class." Ahiru begged. "That 'warm-up' yesterday…almost killed me."

"Of course, mademoiselle." Femio said.

Class was anything but 'easy' for Ahiru. Ahiru excruciatingly forced her legs to bend so she could perform a demi plié. Oh no… a grand plié. Her calves burned in memory of the class yesterday as she now rose to relevé, willing herself to stop swaying. The worst part was that she had to do this at least fifteen times, as they repeated demi and grand pliés in first, second, fourth, and fifth position.

Finally, the music ended, and Ahiru wiped her brow reluctantly as she allowed herself to relax.

"LEFT SIDE!" Femio shouted happily. Ahiru's eyes widened in horror.

"You poor little thing." Lillie whispered. "Just look at you."

Ahiru had always been the worst at adagios. Her body was best suited to rapid jumps and quick, precise movements (which was precisely why she excelled as an assassin). However, slow and stately music called for languid, flowing poses. There was no point in standing there and holding a pose when she could already have moved on to something else, Ahiru decided. Yes, she hated adagios.

She closed her eyes and fervently hoped that she wouldn't be forced to dance an adagio.

"In order to prepare us for the production, our class today will consist of our very own Director's contributions to the art of dance. From the corner, dancers."

Ahiru followed Pique and Lillie to the long line that had already formed from the left corner of the room. Together, they watched as Femio marked the music to an almost gymnastics-like combination, which included not only traditional leaps and arabesques from classical ballet but also acrobatic flips and handsprings.

"I hate these." Pique muttered. "My shoulders get so sore after this."

"Poor Ahiru!" Lillie exclaimed, turning to her red-haired friend. "She doesn't even know how to do any of it!"

The dancers awkwardly performed the combination, and many of them found themselves unable to fully complete the difficult moves. It looked as if few naturally excelled at this type of dancing.

However, when her turn came, Ahiru sprang from her starting position and vaulted herself across the floor. Her breathing was easy and unhurried; this required little to no effort. Yes, here was her forte. Adding a couple of extra twirls and jumps here and there was fairly flashy, but not necessarily difficult for her. She finished with a victorious jump exiting to the right.

"Mademoiselle Ahiru!" Femio called, as the dancers continued behind her. Obligingly, she came toward him.

"You are quite gifted in this style." Femio remarked. "Perhaps we should have you in our production as a soloist!"

"No thank you." Ahiru replied politely, cursing inwardly. _Why did I have to go and show off like that? No suspicion from anyone!_ "I'd prefer to hone my skills in ballet, but thank you."

"Really, mademoiselle. You have the most natural gift for acrobatics out of all the dancers I've ever seen. I'm sure the Director would be delighted to hear of this."

"_No_." Ahiru said firmly, looking him in the eyes confidently.

Femio sighed. "Very well then, mademoiselle."

She watched the other dancers, their cheeks red with effort, as they tried to leap from one position to the next. None could match Ahiru's agility and grace.

And after that, Ahiru made sure to be _exactly_ mediocre at everything she did.

* * *

Two days had passed while she had simply waited and bided her time. On the eve of the third day, it was time to act.

Ahiru waited in the shadows that afternoon next to Fakir's office. She had already checked the pipes and made the necessary incisions so that it would seem as if one of the pipes had leaked. In reality, a carbon monoxide leak would be too dangerous to pull off without accidentally poisoning people in other rooms if not herself as well.

It would seem as if one of the pipes had leaked. How simple.

But she couldn't be caught.

Ahiru glimpsed Fakir striding towards his office, a briefcase in hand. He hurried into his office, and she allowed herself a small smile as she slipped the gas mask over her mouth and nose.

She brought her eye to the keyhole. He was studying a piece of paper, shaking his head.

_Perfect. _Quickly, she jammed the keyhole so that he wouldn't be able to escape and then inserted the nozzle beneath the door.

Her finger found the 'on' button. Deadly gas should begin to fill the room. All she needed to do now was wait. Nobody should be approaching, and this wouldn't take long.

_Adios, Director_. Ahiru thought silently, kneeling next to his door.

The only thing she needed to do now was wait.


	4. Attempt 2: On the Enter Key

**[a/n] **To clear things up: in no way do I claim that Ahiru is in character for this fic OR that she is at all like an actual assassin. However, this is my interpretation of what she would be like if an impressionable Ahiru(much like the one we know) had been persuaded to join the 'dark side' by a charming yet evil Mytho. She wouldn't stop to think about what she was _doing_ because of her childlike love and admiration for him. When she starts to uncover the cracks in the story she's taken for granted, we'll see hints of that impressionable girl once more.

**Attempt #2: On the Enter Key**

"AHIRU! What in the world are you doing HERE?"

Ahiru could barely stop the curses muttered vehemently under her breath. _Here? Now? Really?_

"AHIRU! What is up with that contraption you've got there?" Lillie pranced towards her happily. "And if I didn't know better I'd think-"

In a matter of seconds, Ahiru had ripped her mask off, kicked the machine and her mask into a conveniently nearby closet, and leapt beside Lillie...and with widened eyes, Ahiru realized that she had forgotten that the keyhole was still jammed.

"Lillie!" Ahiru whispered through clenched teeth. "Look! Over there! Do you see him?"

Lillie turned around towards where Ahiru was pointing. "What do you mean? I don't see anything..." Indignantly, she whirled back around. "Where did he go? And who is he?"

That had been time enough for Ahiru to unjam the door just as Fakir's footsteps neared her. Ahiru breathed a sigh in relief, only to tossed to the floor by the abruptly opening door. "Ohmigosh!" Lillie squealed. "Look at you! And...he's so _angry_! Great job Ahiru!" And just like that, Lillie skittered away.

Fakir looked like a ferocious storm cloud. "What are you doing here?"

Ahiru wasn't about to back down, but she had absolutely no excuse. "Nothing!" She folded her arms defiantly, her gaze searching the vicinity for an acceptable excuse. Her gaze finally alit on a potted plant. "Just...uh...checking...this potted plant for...bugs. See?"

"Right." Fakir said, unconvinced.

"So what if I was? Bugs can kill your plants! They're very dangerous!"

"Uh huh."

Ahiru heard him mutter, "This headache! Ugh! And all these _idiots_!" After a slight nod, she backed away. As she shook her head, Ahiru couldn't help but think of the incriminating equipment lying unprotected in the closet. She would have to retrieve it later.

* * *

"So she just _interrupted_ you?"

"Um, yes." Ahiru admitted. "I almost had the job done. Almost."

"Do not try this again." Mytho advised. "It is clear that more planning is needed. Be on the lookout for attempts on your own life, especially now that you have committed a failed assassination attempt. It is entirely possible that he knows. Do you think he was alerted to your presence?"

"Of course not!" Ahiru said indignantly. "I am a professional!"

"Find out more." Mytho said, eyes narrowed. "The next time you attempt this, it _must_ be successful."

"I will _not_ fail again." Ahiru said determinedly. "How embarrassing!"

"I have faith in you." Mytho's eyes glimmered like amethyst jewels.

Ahiru knew that if she was to find out more about Fakir, she couldn't simply come and go to classes. No, she had to use her opportunities.

* * *

"Does the company have an empty practice room where I could dance _in the mornings_?" Ahiru asked Femio as she tried not to look like she was dying a slow, painful death. She had just told him about the deal she had made with the Director, and Femio seemed eager to help her improve.

If she could come early morning, then perhaps she could find where Fakir danced. A plan could be made from there, because the task would be easiest to complete when he was alone.

"Yes, mademoiselle. I believe we do. Upstairs, there is a small room that is empty in the mornings, if you wish to refine your technique. We used to use it for classes, but as if now no one uses it."

"Thank you! I'll be sure to do so." Ahiru's fingers adjusted the bun at the top of her head absently, where a tiny spare dagger was concealed beneath the mass of red hair. Now she had a cover she could use to deflect doubts. _Oh, me? I was just practicing, and then I got thirsty and it's so stupid of me but I forgot my water bottle, and I was just going to look for it and then I got lost! _Yes, it would only be too easy to do so.

"Wait, mademoiselle! You are not done yet after this class! We have rehearsal, and the Director has told me we should to use your services as a dancer in any way fitting…I do not intend to have you dance a pointe role, but you would make a rather lovely tree."

Ahiru groaned. "Did he tell you to make me a tree?"

"Well…his exact words were 'seeing as she has seen fit to invade our classes, please do not hesitate to place her in a role that best suits her nonexistent talents for the upcoming production.' I do think, mademoiselle, we would do best to escape his wrath."

Ahiru sighed. "Fine." At least she didn't have to dance.

* * *

Using a lockpick to slip into Fakir's office after he had left for the night wasn't much of a challenge for Ahiru; she had stolen past more fortified defenses before. She didn't know what she hoped to find, but if she could quickly analyze the possibility that she could perform the task right _here_…

She inaudibly closed the door behind her as she stowed her lockpick away. It was imperative that she touched _nothing_ unless _absolutely necessary. _One of the first lessons Mytho had taught her was that careful planning overruled hasty decisions and even the slightest touch could alert the Director that someone had been in his office.

Ahiru wore sheer black gloves just in case. Her eyes scanned the room. Air vent to the right. Thin laptop on his desk, orderly papers next to it. The photo of that woman…

Ahiru found herself drawn to the picture. The woman seemed lovely, her hands folded on her lap demurely and dark curls framing her slender face. Yet, the expression with which she glared at the camera spoke of melancholy and resentment. Ahiru ignored the leap of jealousy in her stomach and continued to examine her surroundings.

There was an invitation to some upcoming gala on Fakir's desk for the upcoming weekend, which Ahiru was sure to memorize the date and location for. If she scoped out the place beforehand, she could be waiting when he arrived. Well, that was one possibility.

Or...Ahiru paused and stared at the keyboard of Fakir's computer. Her signature lethal poison...might work. After two days, it would cease to be lethal, but that would be plenty of time enough for it to act.

Despite the promise she had made to Mytho to be careful, Ahiru couldn't restrain herself. With a light touch, she retrieved her poison and set to work brushing it on the Enter key. One touch would mean death in two hours. It was time to end this business for once and for all.

* * *

"Darling, this is making me nervous." Mytho murmured. "Don't get too involved in the situation. That's not our style. Get in, execute the task, and then get out. That's how we operate. I don't want you to get attached to anyone, especially him."

"But it's already done!" Ahiru exclaimed. "Tomorrow, two hours after he touches his computer, he's dead!"

"That's very suspicious." Mytho said, eyes narrowed. "Did you really?"

"Yes!" Ahiru answered. "See? I'm not involved at all. And this time, I'll succeed."

"Mm. I'm glad." Mytho said, running an affectionate hand over her hair. "Voila, life is back to normal then. On to the next target."


	5. Ch 5: Obviously It's A Love Potion

**Ch 5: Obviously It's A Love Potion**

Ahiru would risk being late to class to make sure that her plan didn't go awry. She lurked around the edge of the corner, watched as Fakir unlocked his door, and...

Lillie came out of nowhere and pranced to his side. "Director, hi! I want to ask you something. Pretty pretty please?" For some reason, Ahiru knew this couldn't be good.

Pique, slightly out of breath, arrived as well. "She thinks she knows the right way to say nuclear!"

"Idiots." Fakir sighed. "Really? For future reference, _you, _Pique, are saying it correctly."

"No!" Lillie folded her arms stubbornly. "You are _both_ wrong!"

"The level of idiocy is astounding." Fakir strode inside, clearly unwilling to deal with either of them. "You can look it up on my computer, if you are so convinced you have the correct pronunciation. I'm warning you, though, you are clearly _wrong_."

"Well then I will!" Lillie huffed, following him. Ahiru's eyes widened in panic. If she didn't act quickly, Lillie would be the one dead, not Fakir.

"I'll do it!" Ahiru shouted, rushing inside. "Let's settle this matter for once and for all."

"Ahiru?" Pique asked. "You're skipping class too?"

Ahiru leapt into the swiveling chair before Lillie could reach it and made sure to brush her sleeve thoroughly across the Enter key before she did anything else. Seeing the white crystals gathered on her sleeve, she quickly folded her sleeves back several times. "Let's do it!"

_Whew. That was a close call_. It seemed obvious that poison wasn't working. She would have to take a different approach.

* * *

"So you're telling me that they were about to look something up on his computer."

"Yes."

"You wiped the poison off with your sleeve, hoping there wouldn't be any left on the Enter key."

"Yes."

"And was there?"

"Not enough to kill with a touch, certainly. Probably enough to make someone sick."

"And you disposed of that sweater soon after?"

"Yes."

"Took a small dose of the antidote to ensure your own health?"

"Yes."

"What a complete failure of an assassin you are." Mytho said, his voice acerbic and biting. "What a complete failure. Two failed attempts already. I cannot believe it has gone this far. He has made a fool of you, Ahiru."

"I'm not a fool-" Ahiru began, but Mytho cut her off.

"How many times have I told you not to make an attempt unless you're certain it will succeed?"

Ahiru gulped. "Uh...lots of times."

"How many attempts have you failed?"

"Two."

"How many attempts should it take?"

"One. One only." Ahiru cringed inwardly. He was completely right. She shouldn't have failed like this.

"I shouldn't have trusted you with this task. I should have known you'd fail." Mytho said, almost to himself. "What else could I expect?"

"I'm sorry!" Ahiru burst out. "I-"

"Enough. Only one more attempt. And this time...it must succeed." His eyes glimmered at her menacingly. "Or else. Understand?"

"Yes." Ahiru looked down. "I understand."

"Good. Do not fail me again."

* * *

"So?" Lillie pressed. "Why were you at the Director's office with that odd contraption?"

"Getting rid of bugs." Ahiru said, after only a slight pause. "Right." She added unconvincingly.

"Bugs." Lillie narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare tease me."

"What?"

"I know what you're really after."

Ahiru began to fidget. Was it possible that Lillie knew her secret?

Lillie straightened and pointed an accusing finger directly at Ahiru's nose. "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!"

"WHAT?" Ahiru blurted.

"You were trying to make him fall in love with you! It was all a ploy. Yes, you thought you'd fooled me," Lillie said, "but I know the truth! You've harbored a deep passion for him ever since you first saw him, and you _adore_ our Director even though he has poor to no social skills!"

A laugh bubbled up in Ahiru's chest, but she was unaware of the slight flush across her freckled cheeks. "Is that what you think?"

"Of course!" Lillie nodded, satisfied. "And what's more, I'll help you. I'll make sure it's a gorgeous love story until the moment the two of you are torn apart forever!"

_Nothing could be further from the truth._ Ahiru thought stubbornly. _I've always loved Mytho, and I always will. Fakir is a stupid annoyance I'm going to get rid of as soon as possible._

Now she just had to listen to Lillie's chattering about how her nonexistent relationship with Fakir.

* * *

Ahiru began to think of her possible alternatives. She began to consider the date written on the invitation she had found on Fakir's desk. It was only in a week and a half. She knew where it was. Why not use that as an opportunity?_  
_

Ahiru closed her eyes, trying to recall what the invitation had said. Apparently it had only extended to 'Influential People of the Arts', or something like that. If an attack happened there, the suspicion would be dispersed; it wouldn't be clear _who_, if anyone, was being targeted. Fakir would simply _happen_ to die. Perhaps he would be the only one, perhaps not.

A plan began to formulate in her mind. The security wouldn't be a problem for her. She could steal inside, and then...

First she had to scope the layout of the building. Ahiru nodded to herself certainly. She would _not_ fail, she would _not_ fail, she would _not._

* * *

This is the most ridiculous idea ever." Fakir grumbled. "It's stupid. _Why_? Why are they making me perform in front of those people?"

"Because everyone wants to see you dance." Edel said matter-of-factly. "You used to be a famed dancer before you suddenly quit to become the Director of our company. Granted, the death of the former one gave you the position, but everyone was _so_ puzzled when you just never danced again. People are curious, Director."

Fakir's face seemed downcast, but he quickly returned to his businesslike tone. "It's not even a request! It's almost an order! Those idiots!"

"You'd do best to remain in their favor." Edel returned. "They're doing you a courtesy by asking you to perform as a guest artist. You are currently ranked in the top 100 most influential of the arts worldwide. That is quite the distinguished position."

"I know." Fakir said, exasperated by his inability to do anything. "Those idiots, expecting me to dance for them. Idiots! It's not as if I can even dance by myself! They're telling me-"

"You need a partner, don't you?" Edel said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I refuse." Fakir said flatly. "They didn't tell me I _needed_ a partner. I don't need one. Not at all."

Edel hid a small laugh. "And what's your plan?"

"I'm going to go, dance a minute-long variation that doesn't make me look like a fool, and leave. Not ballet, either. It'll be more modern. That's that."

"All right." Edel said lightly. "You have fun."

Fakir fumed. "As if I would. I'll be the laughingstock of them all."

"DIRECTOR!" A sing-song voice giggled from behind the door. "Guess WHAT?"

"SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!" Fakir said loudly.

"Guess who has a ginormous crush on you?" Fakir immediately recognized the voice as belonging to one of the dancers...that annoying blonde one, too.

"Leave. I am in an _important_ meeting."

"Not as important as...this!" The door flung open, and the blonde dancer had another dancer...Ahiru, Fakir remembered, in a chokehold. "Guess what, Fakir! Ahiru _loves_ you! Do you remember when I caught her at your door? She was trying to make you _fall in love_ with her with a _love_ _contraption_ because she _loves_ you! It's a painful, burning love that she struggles with, because she can never-"

"Cut it out, Lillie!" Ahiru said with a hoarse whisper. She seemed simultaneously flustered and angry as her face flushed pink.

"What is this?" Edel asked. "A poorly timed proposal?"

"YES!" Lillie squealed, at the same time that Ahiru shouted, "NO!"

"Let's leave, Lillie!" Ahiru begged. "Please stop embarrassing me!"

She somehow managed to steer her friend away from the open door, and Fakir rose to close the door abruptly.

"The red-haired one's rather cute." Edel remarked.

"I wouldn't go that far." Fakir returned.

* * *

Ahiru was ready to do ballet. In order to maintain her position at the company (and persuade people she wouldn't become a janitor) she had to at least look like she was trying to be a ballerina.

It was early in the morning, too. Somehow, she had managed to wake up _before_ Lillie and Pique to come here, and found an unlocked practice room upstairs.

"I see you have arrived!"

Ahiru turned around slowly, barely suppressing her dread at his voice.

"Would you like me to help you, Mademoiselle?"

"No." Ahiru said, and immediately wished she hadn't. Femio's face fell like a shattered Christmas ornament.

"Ah," Femio said gently. "Woe is me!" He proceeded to twirl about the room. "Punish this sinner!" He addressed the mirror earnestly. "Punish him... for his crimes!"

"No. Don't do that!" Ahiru said, panicked. "You can...uh, you can help if you want."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle." Femio replied, all traces of woe gone. "What shall we do today?"

Ahiru sighed and slumped against the barre. Despite what she had said, she had been hoping he would leave. "I don't know." She suppressed a yawn with wave of her hand.

"No yawning!" Femio said sternly, bounding to her side. "No yawning while doing ballet!"

"But we aren't doing ballet."

"But we will!"

Ahiru groaned, but she obliged. Maybe she could get something from these practice sessions other than Femio's french antics.

* * *

Fakir strode past the empty rooms decisively, hands in pockets, to check that everything was all right. So far, so good...wait, what?

"A one-on-one practice session?" Fakir stepped up to the door. The surprising thing was...

The red-haired girl, Ahiru. was ridiculously athletic, almost like a gymnast. She performed acrobatic tricks, jumps, and leaped off the walls like a cartoon character. While she performed, Femio was giving a long monologue about the similarities of the art of dance and the art of the French language.

Fakir's heart quickened. _No. Not possible. That was so long ago._ He quickly shook his head and cleared his thoughts before he strode in.

"What are you two doing?" Fakir demanded.

Ahiru, in the middle of a leap, twisted her ankle and fell to the floor in a heap with shock. Her face drained of all color.

"Mademoiselle, are you all right?" Femio rushed to her side with concern.

"I'm all right." She managed, shooting Fakir a look he couldn't read.

For some reason, seeing Femio fawn over her annoyed Fakir. He ignored the urge to kneel beside the girl and make sure she hadn't sprained her ankle. "Try not to break your ankle next time," was all Fakir could say. He turned around and walked towards the door.

When he looked back, he saw Femio supporting Ahiru as she carefully rose to stand. Fakir gave a slight hmph at these irrational feelings of jealousy sprouting in his chest and left.

* * *

"Mytho?" Ahiru asked slowly, standing at her register as the familiar head of white-blond hair appeared through her door. "Mytho!"

She leapt into his arms for a hug, but he seemed a bit detached. "Listen, dear." Mytho said urgently. "We must be quick." He studied her face quickly, and found a trace of guilt. "What happened?" He asked.

"First, can..." Ahiru looked into his eyes pleadingly. For some reason, she had been wondering this all day. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mhm."

Ahiru knew she wasn't supposed to ask, but suddenly she felt so _curious_. "Why...do we have to kill the Director?"

Ahiru saw his eyes widen and felt his breath hitch. For a moment, he didn't answer. Ahiru, sensing that she had made a grievous misstep, bit her lip. She had already asked; it was too late to go back.

"Did you just ask why he must die?"

"Well, I was wondering who wanted him dead-"

"It is none of your business to know." Mytho raised an eyebrow, and Ahiru didn't dare press the matter further. "Now," Mytho continued, "tell me what happened."

"Uh..." Ahiru swallowed. Within a minute, she had given him the details of the situation in the morning practice room: how she and Femio, in the early morning, had been interrupted by Fakir...who had seen her while _using her trademark assassin skills_. Luckily she hadn't sprained her ankle; all the same, it hurt to walk.

"He saw you."

Ahiru looked down. She couldn't lie to Mytho.

"And you were leaping, using the skills I taught you."

Ahiru could barely nod.

"And he simply watched while you fell?"

"He looked almost surprised when he saw me," Ahiru remembered. "Almost as if he had forgotten something."

Mytho's aura became dangerous. "And why, do tell, did you decide your actions would be fitting?"

"I thought...only Femio would see. Just a teacher." Ahiru's voice had become inaudible. "I didn't think..."

"Mistake after mistake after mistake." Mytho said icily. "I see. Allowing yourself to become emotional, are you?"

"No! It's the rule that-"

"Thinking we can create our own rules?"

"You know I'd never disobey you-"

"Letting your heart go unguarded?"

"I..." Ahiru stuttered, her face heating. "I, uh..." She was unaware that Mytho's eyes leapt with concern at her hesitance.

Without warning, Mytho drew Ahiru close and kissed her. When they finally broke apart, he murmured, "Never forget that. You're loyal to me, remember?"

"Yes." Ahiru promised breathlessly, lost in his embrace, her chin tilted up towards him. "I'll always-"

"You'll always love me." Mytho finished, his voice smooth and lilting. "I know, darling." Ahiru nestled against him, and his heartbeat thumped reassuringly in her ears. Yet, somehow, her misgivings about killing Fakir had only grown.


	6. Ch 6: Lots of Eavesdropping

**Ch 6: Lots of Eavesdropping**

"Did you hear about Ahiru's love potion?" Lillie asked.

Ahiru blinked as half the class turned around, including their teacher, to partake in the news. "She actually loves our Director!" Lillie laughed. "She was trying to make him fall in love with her forever and ever and ever!"

"Shut up!" Ahiru hissed. "Just be quiet, Lillie!"

The damage had already been done...to Femio's ego, that was.

"How grievous!" Femio sighed dramatically. "Not with me? Mademoiselle is actually in love with our Director?"

Lillie, sensing an opportunity, nodded cheerfully. "And she can't control her love, even though he's a complete jerk, and it's so, so tragic! Don't worry! They'll both meet their tragic dooms!"

"Lillie, I swear I will kill you if you continue." Ahiru said, and for not the first time the terrible thought flew through her mind of actually carrying out her promise. _My cover is going to be blown_, Ahiru thought furiously. _Why are you doing this, Lillie?_

She looked beseechingly at Pique for help, but Pique simply shrugged. Lillie was rather entertaining at times.

* * *

"Well, the gala is tomorrow." Edel said, walking into Fakir's office. "Are you ready, Director?"

"Not really." Fakir said flatly, sounding tired. "I have too much work. I probably just shouldn't go."

"They're honoring you, Fakir," Edel said gently, but Fakir gave a massive sigh.

"Now, listen, Lillie. You've got to quit skipping class! Nobody believes you're sick!" Pique whispered, just outside the door. "Now come on!"

"But we're eavesdropping!" Lillie protested, as quietly as she could manage. "We have to find out what's happening to Ahiru's love interest!"

"I am in no way associated with either of you. Just because you drag me out of class, just to be eavesdropping, doesn't mean I have to play along." Ahiru said, folding her arms. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

Lillie pressed an ear to the wall, listening intently despite Pique's attempts to yank her away. A look of utter shock struck Lillie's face, and for a moment she stared uncomprehendingly at them both. Despite her initial objections, Pique was eager to find out exactly what Lillie had heard.

"What happened?" Pique asked curiously.

Lillie shook her head, focusing her attention on listening. Unable to resist, Pique joined her. Ahiru, somewhat stubborn to join in the fun, folded her arms.

"Oh my gosh." Pique murmured.

"It's _perfect_." Lillie whispered. "At first I thought it would ruin my plans, but it's actually just _perfect._"

"What is it?" Ahiru demanded, annoyed.

Lillie, barely keeping herself from squealing with joy, seized Ahiru's arm and ran off down the hallway, Pique trailing in their wake. Ahiru leaned against the wall when Lillie came to a stop. "Spit it out. We get it, it's exciting." Ahiru said, wondering what exactly had happened.

"He's...our Director's...he's going to a huge party tonight!" Lillie clapped her hands, laughing to herself.

"What?" Ahiru blurted, surprised that such a trivial piece of information could cheer Lillie like this.

"She's not lying." Pique said gravely. "Ever since a couple of months ago. The Director and Edel were talking about some gala that's supposed to be tomorrow. He said," here Pique imitated his voice, taking care to sound extra grumpy, "Hate parties. I really don't want to go."

Ahiru shook her head, trying to rid herself of that twinge of frustration. She was supposed to be surprised? Sometimes it was difficult to pretend, even though Lillie and Pique were her closest friends.

"And he has a sister!" Lillie said confidentially. "Because then he talked about how they were polar opposites, and she loves parties even though he hates them!"

Ahiru half-frowned. _A sister. Of course. _

For some reason, it made him a bit more human. He _was_ another person too, a person with his own friends and family, his own dreams and aspirations. Ahiru had never been given details about her target like this before. Mytho had only given her the basic facts, only the ones necessary; _too many facts clutter the mind_, he had always said. _Just get the job done._

Maybe because it was so much harder to kill people once you got to know them.

_But you don't know him! _She said to herself stoutly. _You don't know anything about him except for the fact that he heads a dancing company and he's got a sister and he's really awfully grouchy all the time, and he's always strutting around like he owns the place, and when he's mad he looks like a really angry storm cloud. But I'm sure he has moments when he's nice too._

_Get the job done_, Mytho said in her mind. _Don't ask pointless questions. _

Ahiru shook her head at the imaginary Mytho. Even the pointless questions needed to be asked.

"Ahiru? You've kind of zoned out on us." Pique said, looking concerned.

"Ah. Um. Yes."

"She's _so_ in love!" Lillie laughed. "Anyway, I was saying, you should totally go crash the party! It can be just like Cinderella!"

"I don't think that's what she's going for," Pique said, biting her lip.

"No!" Lillie protested. "I mean it! She should really do it! - and from what I heard, it's a masquerade or something - so she can be the mysterious lady who appears out of nowhere and dazzles everyone! I've got this gorgeous white dress that I'd be willing to-"

Once more, Ahiru quit listening. _Can I go through with my mission? Mytho's been refusing to tell me why, and I'm just not sure about this anymore. _But she told herself: _I'll find out exactly why I'm supposed to assassinate Fakir tomorrow. And my plan is fool-proof this time; if I use it, there's no way I'd fail. It's just..._

"Come on, Ahiru! This is important! It's why you've got a fighting chance to be his-"

"Sorry." Ahiru said suddenly, unwilling to listen any longer to Lillie's musings. "I think we should go back to class. Femio won't turn a blind eye forever." Without another word, Ahiru left, walking pensively down the hallway.

Lillie watched with concern, but soon decided that it was due to the tragic consequences of being in a love triangle.

* * *

The next day, Ahiru, watching through the door for any sign of Mytho, couldn't rid herself of the questions that plagued her. Mytho had never told her _why_ she was supposed to be killing these people. And now, for some unimaginable reason, she really didn't _want_ to kill Fakir tonight. Even though he was obviously an antisocial jerk, he didn't seem to be a _bad_ person.

She had already made all the necessary arrangements, and casualties were bound to be high; it should generate some investigation, but the method was relatively untraceable and could be attributed to mere accident if she didn't linger around the area afterwards. But, in fact, she didn't have to do it this way, she realized; there were several other creative ways to make it look like he'd died of an untimely accident, and she knew them all. Her methods were by no means limited to poison that caused liver failure or carbon monoxide poisoning...

...but why had she been putting it off ever since? She found herself dreading tonight, and for some reason...

Of course, she had always trusted Mytho ever since she had first met him. She had no reason to stop _now_.

Ahiru sighed. Life had never been this complicated. It had always been simple; she did as Mytho told her to do, and everything was all right. But the seed of doubt had grown within her. She didn't know.

"What will your next attempt be?" Mytho asked, hands in his pockets as he came in. "When?"

Ahiru had resolved that she would not bend this time. "You have to tell me why he's supposed to die first." Ahiru said stubbornly.

"You already know the answer to that question."

"Well then I'm not killing him!" Ahiru said, her voice rising. "Tell me!"

"Dangerous ideas have wormed into your mind, I see." Mytho shifted his hands in his pockets. "Why so curious all of a sudden?"

"It's just not right!" Ahiru cried desperately. "It just isn't. You have to tell me what's going on."

"Hm." Calm as ever, Mytho considered the situation. "I'll offer you a deal." Mytho's eyes glinted like liquid gold. "You kill him first. Then, I'll tell you why."

Ahiru's fingers drummed on the countertop. "I don't know," Ahiru admitted indecisively. "I..."

"Perhaps not." Mytho looked at her questioningly. "Now, what is your plan for tonight?"

Ahiru struggled with herself, debating her answer. Finally, she looked up as her conciliatory nature took over. "Is it all right if I make it a surprise?" Ahiru asked matter-of-factly. "I know that I won't fail this time, though. No way. Also, is it all right if a couple of other people at the gala die too, just to avert suspicion?"

Mytho nodded, smiling once more. "That's my girl. Other people will die as well? How many?"

"A fair amount. Enough to divert suspicion. You said it was to look like an accident."

"Yes, of course."

"Well, nobody will directly investigate his death. It'll be labeled a terrible tragedy, but eventually people will forget."

"You won't fail me again, will you?"

Ahiru gave a little laugh. "Why would I do something like that?"

"That's my girl." Mytho ruffled her hair fondly, gave her a chaste goodbye kiss, and walked towards the door.

"Going so soon?" Ahiru asked, feeling a little let down.

"I have important business to attend to." Mytho answered. "I'm sorry, darling. But next night...when the job is done..." He winked charmingly, and Ahiru giggled. "I'll expect you here at midnight if you can make it. We'll have a little celebration, I promise. Love you, Ahiru."

"You too." Ahiru called. Mytho departed, and the bell rung behind him.

As he walked out, Ahiru couldn't help the curiosity rising in her. She had never found out where she lived. While Lillie and Pique had been gone at ballet, she had taken Mytho back to her apartment, but he had never taken her to his house. And now...

...this would be the perfect opportunity! In a single, impulsive motion she swooped beneath the countertop for her wall-climbing gloves, a hat to cover her bright red hair, and, after a moment's hesitation, her pistol. She heard Mytho's voice, reassuring in her head: _always carry a weapon. Never know when you'll need it. _Not that she would need it, but she couldn't go wrong if she followed Mytho's advice. She didn't have any other equipment with her, but this would do.

Ahiru sprinted out of the shop just to see his back retreating around a corner. She was a professional. And it would make the perfect surprise; what if she found out where he lived, and then used the skills he had taught her to sneak inside and surprise him? Mytho would surely be impressed.

..._or you're just suspicious of him. _Ahiru didn't want to admit it, but she'd had the thought, more than once, that Mytho had been hiding something. Of course he wasn't, but it couldn't hurt just to check. She doubted she'd find anything anyway.

Her footsteps were soft against the ground as she blended into the passersby, making sure not to lose track of Mytho as he walked block after block.

He stopped before another tall apartment, and pressed the call button for...Ahiru squinted...the fourth floor, left side. He pulled out his phone to send a brief text, and within seconds the door unlocked.

Ahiru looked up to find the window she could climb to, and found it with little difficulty. She crept up the wall, as Mytho had taught her to do, and used her strength to hoist herself from windowsill to windowsill, and, if need be, climb on brick wall with her gloves. It wasn't very difficult for her to reach the fourth floor. With some relief, she discovered that one the windows wasn't closed, with a just wide enough space for her to fit paused, and, with a mischievous grin, placed her feet softly on the interior carpet of the apartment. She was in what appeared to be a lavishly decorated living room; the coordination of the burgundy colors of the curtains, plush crimson of the pillows and couches, and red-tinted glow of the lampshades astonished Ahiru.

"Wow," she said inaudibly to herself as she moved past. "Didn't know that Mytho was so good at interior decorating!"

Now, where was he? Looking for her target, Ahiru halted suddenly when she heard voices speaking around the corner.

**[a/n] **Secrets are slowly coming to light. The only question is, which ones?

Also: does anybody believe that Mytho is actually good at interior decorating?


	7. Ch 7: From Assassin to Protector

**Chapter 7: From Assassin to Protector**

"Dear, I'm so glad you're here." The female voice was beautiful and rich, but worried. "We have about an hour. How is the plan going? I can't help but be nervous-"

"It's all right." Mytho's voice! Ahiru listened intently, unable to comprehend the meaning of this conversation fully. "I have an assassin who is planning to dispose of him tonight. The gala-"

"So you're sure it'll be over soon."

"Of course."

"And once this is all over, you and I-"

"Everything that we have ever dreamed of will be ours."

"Something else...do you remember that assassin? We can't just have her walking around, knowing everything that happened. What are we going to do?"

"It's true, we have some loose ends to clean up. Don't worry, dear. The agent I sent to kill him might need to be eliminated after she finishes the job. At midnight tomorrow, in fact. I'll take care of it. And, also, I have some funds from our previous assassinations. It's big money, dear. Of course, nothing compared to the total sum we'll be getting, but still..."

Ahiru's eyes narrowed. _Big money_. She had never received anything close to _big money_. Was it possible...

"That's delightful. I'm so glad it'll be over. I hate this horrid business."

"Me too, dear."

Ahiru felt her throat began to choke. Mytho...not only had he been cheating on her all along with some other woman, but he had been cheating her out of her earnings, _and_ planning to kill her too? Ahiru cautiously shifted away from the voices, panic beginning to set in. From what she had heard, Mytho had planned to 'eliminate' her. Anybody could tell what that meant. The important thing to do right now was escape.

Ahiru backed away towards the window, and wormed through the small opening as quickly as she could. The voices were getting nearer, and Ahiru had barely managed to make it out of the window...but was still too late to evade notice as Mytho strode in. His trained gaze focused directly on Ahiru, and his expression darkened.

Keeping one of her hands firmly fixed on the brick wall so she wouldn't slip, Ahiru drew her pistol and aimed it directly at him.

"I'm coming," The woman's voice called, and she herself appeared. The woman was slim and lovely, with curling, feathery black hair and beautiful dark eyes. She was gorgeous in a dark red sweater dress. At the sight of Ahiru, the woman gasped, terrified.

"Don't. Move." Ahiru said, with a dark, dangerous anger, her focus back on Mytho, and her pistol trained with deadly accuracy on Mytho's heart. For a moment both of them believed that she was going to pull the trigger.

But she had idolized him so! He had been her angel, her lover, her everything! Ahiru hesitated at the sight of him defenseless, and that pause was enough for Mytho to reach to draw his own revolver.

_He's going to shoot me. _The cold realization swept over her, and Ahiru deliberately scrambled down the building as quickly as she could. Once at a safe distance from the ground, she jumped and landed lightly. With haste, she sprinted around the corner of the building, out of firing range.

Mytho's voice rang out moments later, loud and menacing. "I will find you. I will find him. And then I will kill you both." Ahiru flattened herself against the wall, her eyes red with unshed tears.

* * *

Ahiru, stopping at a coffee shop to catch her breath, quickly realized that the situation was almost hopeless. From what she could deduce...that had been Mytho's lover. Great. Just great.

_Mytho was cheating on me. _Ahiru let a breath whoosh out, trying to accept that reality_. Wouldn't surprise me if he was married, that stupid two-timing jerk. They were plotting together to have me assassinate Fakir tonight, and then tonight, at midnight, Mytho was going to kill me. _

_But why would his secret lover want to get rid of Fakir? He's really grumpy, but still. __Also, why didn't she just do it herself? It would make a lot more sense that way..._

_I've got to admit, I don't have a clue. _

_One thing is clear. Fakir doesn't deserve to be killed, does he? He's another person too. _

Her eyes widened. _I know what Mytho will do. He'll show up at the gala and make sure Fakir dies tonight. I can't let him do that. _A steely determination was written on her face. _I can't let it happen. I have to go there, save Fakir, and somehow manage to get rid of Mytho._

* * *

"Dear?" Rue asked nervously. "Who... who was that?" Her skin had paled to a deathly white.

Mytho was silent.

"Don't tell me it's that assassin," Rue begged.

"It is." Mytho said, clearly unwilling to explain further. He shut and locked the window.

"This is not a joke. How many times have I told you to lock the windows?" Mytho demanded.

"I usually remember-" Rue said, but Mytho shook his head angrily. "Excuses, excuses. It's enough to get us all killed."

"You told me she was loyal to you, and you only!" Rue cried. "_Now_ how much does she know?"

"Considering she was about to escape and then aimed a gun at me," Mytho said grimly, "we have to assume the worst. I would say that she knows almost everything. In any case, there's no way she's going to execute her plan, brilliant as it may be, tonight."

"I understand why you didn't want to keep her alive," Rue said, folding her arms, "but if only she hadn't heard...Oh, Mytho, what are we going to do?"

"First," Mytho answered, "Why can't you just do this thing yourself? You've known him for a while, and I'll bet there were a lot of perfect opportunities. It would be a lot easier if you just-"

"I can't!" Rue said. "I'm not made for this business. It would be too obvious."

"Is that why you wanted it to be 'completely inconspicuous?'" Mytho demanded. "I forbade my assassin from using a gun to kill him so it would look like an _accident_. If you'd just allowed it to be an unresolved case where he just ends up dead, this would have been over a lot sooner."

"You know the facts." Rue said, growing irritated. "If someone were to catch on to the fact that he's been _killed_, all the benefit disappears. It has to look like he's died of natural causes, or it's just been an accident. You told me that all the poisons the assassin was about to use are ones that make it look like it's heart or liver failure, or something, or like the pipes just leaked. The point is, it doesn't look like someone's trying to kill him specifically. We can't afford that, and you know why. I don't care what you do. Just make sure he ends up dead."

"All right, all right." Mytho said hastily, clearing his throat. "Now. This assassin is not a problem. I know her very, very well. Thinking that I will try to murder him tonight, she will turn up at the gala, keeping a lookout for me, and get rid of me before I can get rid of the target. But..." Mytho's eyes glimmered, "there's a much better way to go about this."

* * *

How could she protect Fakir? It wasn't as if Ahiru could cling to the ceiling and watch out for Mytho. Her original plan hadn't required that much; all it would have needed was the proper set-up. But this...if she was to protect him from potential assassination attempts...

Ahiru jumped, startled out of her thoughts, as her phone rang. Without pausing to look at the caller ID, she picked it up absently. "Hello?"

"Hello there!"

Ahiru's eyes widened. "Is it you?"

"Of course it is!" Lillie laughed. "I was just wondering if you'd reconsider my offer! That white dress would look so lovely on you! Please, please, _please_ somehow sneak into the gala tonight! I've always wanted to be friends with a tragic Cinderella!"

"Uh, what's that?"

"So this is my plan! You go to the masquerade thing and look absolutely gorgeous and _everyone_ falls in love with the mysterious woman, but then you remain madly in love with Fakir but _he_ thinks that you're actually in love with someone else, and he becomes depressed and treats you like you're nothing to him, and then you get fed up with him and treat him like he's nothing to you, even though you loved each other all along and it's just so tragic, and then you discover, but _much__ too late_, that-"

Ahiru had stopped listening a long time ago. She had just realized an all-important fact.

She was supposed to protect someone. It was much different from assassination. Assassination required skulking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. Defending someone required constant vigilance, and was, in Ahiru's opinion, much harder. Defending someone also required being next to them in order to avert danger whenever needed.

But being at a masquerade ball right beside her former target required something else entirely, something else besides a hidden pistol and wall-climbing gloves.

"I'll take your offer," Ahiru said recklessly into the phone. "Yes. I think I will."

Ahiru imagined stars sparkling in Lillie's eyes in the brief, elated pause that followed. "You won't regret it!" Lillie giggled. "I'm _so_ glad that you decided to finally follow your true calling! Who knew that being the best friend of the main character in a tragedy could be so, so rewarding! Maybe I'll even get a love interest of my own, and-"

After a couple minutes of listening to Lillie prattle on and on about how she'd finally found true inspiration in love, Ahiru said simply, "I"ll be at our apartment in a couple of minutes."

"Okay!" Lillie said brightly. "See ya!"

Now, if she could just find Fakir before the gala began, so this entire mess could be averted...where would he be?

His house. But it was only forty-five minutes before the gala began! He might already be on his way, or... Ahiru sighed. If only she had some way to contact him! But what would she even say? Would he believe her?

As it was, she would simply have to get to the gala, somehow smuggle a pistol into an elegant gala, and...become a bodyguard, the opposite of what she had been trained to do, and all while pretending to be a glamorous member of upper society? Funny how things changed...

**[A/N] **Want something specific to happen at the gala? Review with suggestions, and I might be able to use some of them!

And also, are we all agreed on the Fakiru pairing? Because that's definitely happening.


	8. Ch 8: On Your Side, I Promise

**Chapter 7: On Your Side, I Promise**

"You look gorgeous," Lillie cooed at Ahiru, who was dressed in a fluffy white dress with undertones of pink, her red hair in a low bun. In her hair were fastened white feathers, and dainty golden bracelets around her wrists. "Simply stunning, hm?"

"Uh huh," Ahiru said, clearly not listening, as she fixed the curved dagger beneath her - no, Lillie's - shimmering hairpiece, fashioned in the shape of a golden crown. Lillie continued, oblivious.

"You'll be just like Cinderella! I can't believe it! I have just one question, though...how are you planning to get in? Don't they have security, and isn't this just for influential people or something like that?"

"There are ways," Ahiru replied, her mind working though possible options. "I'll do it. Don't worry about me."

Little did Lillie know that Ahiru had hidden a set of elegant daggers, two pistols, rope, pepper spray, and an extra change of light black clothes somewhere in or on her outfit. Of course, the poufy skirt was helpful in this matter. Should the occasion require it, Ahiru could become a bodyguard in the shadows with ease.

And, she mused, if she was able to keep Fakir alive after this night, she would try to find out why that woman wanted him dead. Or, in the very least, get revenge on Mytho before he could come after her.

"Oh, I completely forgot! It was supposed to be a masquerade, I think, so you need a mask. A white mask. Let's see..." Lillie giggled. "I think one of our neighbors might have one...you know, the really artsy one, Hermia, who has lots and lots of cats. Want me to check?"

"That would be amazing," Ahiru sighed, having completely forgotten about that particular detail. "Please, could you do so?"

Ten minutes later, Ahiru had managed to cram her favorite wall-climbing gloves into her outfit, and Lillie had returned with a delicate white mask, complete with white feathers and jewels adorning the side.

"Hey, it actually looks kind of...I don't know...like an actual masquerade mask," Ahiru observed, feeling impressed.

"She says that you can keep it," Lillie added. "Apparently she had to make it for a theater production, or something, and there's no use for it anymore."

But Ahiru was hardly paying attention. "Okay, I'm going." Ahiru said, hitching up her skirts so she could run as fast as possible.

"No!" Lillie cried. "You have to walk like a lady! What are you doing?"

"Hah," Ahiru smiled, "I only have to do that in front of other people. And you're one of my best friends, so you don't count."

Lillie could only stare in horror as Ahiru sprinted out the door at a surprisingly fast speed. "Bye, Lillie!" She heard as the door slammed.

A devious smile crossed Lillie's face. Ahiru obviously needed her help. What if she, too, asked for a mask from Hermia and donned that lovely blue dress she'd worn for her cousin's wedding? It was a dress suited for the occasion, after all, and if Ahiru could sneak past security, surely Lillie could too. Besides, it could only help Ahiru, who was clearly infatuated with the Director, if Lillie showed up and gave her a couple well-meaning hints...or even just pushed her so that she landed in a heap at his feet.

* * *

Ahiru stepped out of the taxi and scanned the heads of the crowd streaming into the grand marble building. It was twilight hour, just after the sunset, and an eerie blue chill hovered in the air.

"Where are you?" She murmured to herself. "I need to find you."

She seemed to fit in perfectly among the women, who had come in an assortment of rich colors and extravagant masks. Wait...masks? _The mask_, Ahiru remembered, and found it clutched in her hand as she had evidently forgotten to put it on.

She looked closer at all the ladies, and...

...wait a moment. Was everyone holding _ice skating shoes_? And...wait, inside that building...they were actually going to _use_ the skating rink?

No. Please, no.

"I'm so glad they told us to practice ice skating on the invitation!" Ahiru could hear a woman saying nearby through the murmurs of the crowd. "It's so much more graceful than regular dancing, and it perfectly embodies the grace of the arts!"

So it was a masquerade...on ice?

How had Ahiru managed to miss _that_ on the invitation?

Sensing a watchful gaze, she looked up.

A dark-haired man in a navy-colored mask stood only a couple of feet away. She could tell he definitely wasn't Fakir. Despite that, he looked vaguely familiar, and the more she studied him the more certain she became that she had seen him before.

"How are you this evening?" He asked courteously, inclining his head.

Ahiru's eyes narrowed.

His hand whizzed towards her exposed upper arm, but in a single move she elbowed him hard in the chest. Abandoning all pretense of courtesy, he twisted her wrist behind her back painfully. Ahiru retaliated with sucker punch straight to the cheek and spun out of his reach.

Luckily, in the commotion of people, no one seemed to have noticed.

"Idiot!" She hissed, uncertain if she should draw the pepper spray, dagger, or gun. He was obviously someone with connections to Mytho, or in the very least he knew something of her true occupation. Suddenly, her mind cleared. What would a normal person say?

"How terrible!" Ahiru said loftily. "Attacking me like that! Why would you do such a thing?"

"None of your concern," the man said coolly, not even out of breath from their scuffle. A purple bruise was already forming on his cheek, however. From his tone, Ahiru knew that he had a weapon hidden. "The better question is, why are _you_ here?" He continued. "I advise you to go home."

"You're getting on my nerves!" Ahiru sniffed. "I am here to attend this masquerade, thank you very much! And _you_ best get going!"

"Don't play dumb with me," the man said, stepping forward. "I know exactly what you're here for."

Suddenly, he launched a crushing blow at her head, most likely intending to stun her momentarily. Ahiru ducked instantly and drew her pepper spray. She couldn't draw the pistol or the dagger, most likely because she would be kicked out. But pepper spray was, admittedly, much more understandable and didn't require her to drop the pretense of being a normal partygoer.

"Now," she said in a honeyed, dulcet tone, "_leave me alone_."

"I know you're after Fakir," the man said, scowling at the pepper spray. "I won't allow you to accomplish your goal."

Ahiru bit her lip. It looked as if playing dumb wasn't an option. "I'm actually here to _protect_ him." Ahiru replied.

"Really?" He sounded almost amused.

"Before I tell you the whole story, I need to know who you are," Ahiru demanded, making sure to send a withering glare in his direction. "You already know who I am. So, who are _you_?"

"Autor," the man answered.

Her eyes widened. _Autor_. The person who had warned Fakir about an attempt on his life! He was working to protect Fakir, and he should have been her ally! The truth was, she needed all the help she could get against Mytho. "Autor, I'm on your side," Ahiru murmured urgently. "I'm here to fight against Mytho, who is trying to kill Fakir."

An unreadable emotion flickered in Autor's eyes. He paused, as if calculating something in his head, and then looked directly at Ahiru. "In that case, you'll find that Fakir isn't here tonight."

"Isn't...here...?"

"He's not that stupid. He saw all of this coming."

Ahiru's jaw became slack. "He...he's not here."

"He's not," Autor repeated smoothly. "Is there anyone else with you?"

"No."

Autor's shoulders relaxed slightly. "If you are really on our side, there's something you need to discuss with him. Come with me."

Ahiru briefly debated if she should trust him or not, but decided that if needed, she could defend herself. Besides, she did need to talk with Fakir to ensure that she wouldn't be fighting against people who intended to protect him, such as Autor. And, if he hadn't been here, it meant that he had _known_ about Mytho's plans...just what else didn't she know? It seemed there was much more to this puzzle than she had expected.

"Fine," Ahiru nodded. "Just be quick."

The two surreptitiously departed from the ball, hailed a taxi, and stepped out at Fakir's house.

Ahiru looked around nervously. "I'm wearing a white dress and a crown on my head. Isn't that a little...uh, um..."

"If you're worried about looking fat, I'm couldn't care less," Autor smirked.

"Hey!" Ahiru cried, elbowing him to the side and ringing the doorbell.

Fakir opened the door. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. Fakir, quite apart from his usual sharp business attire, was dressed in a comfortable green T-shirt and dark jeans. The thought that Fakir, of all people, could dress casually? Well, that hadn't even crossed Ahiru's mind.

"This is a surprise," Fakir said dryly after the resulting moment of silence. "Autor, who's this?"

"Your assassin, apparently." Autor answered. Ahiru marveled at how nonchalantly Fakir acted despite the fact that Autor had just announced her as a dangerous assassin. Wait...had he _known_ who she was for the entire time? That certainly wasn't good news...

"Oh, first... you'd better lay down all your weapons outside," Fakir said to Ahiru.

Resignedly, Ahiru found the pepper spray, three daggers, and a gun and laid them on the floor. Mytho's words echoed in her head: _never completely disarm._

Naturally, she kept three of the remaining daggers, the rope, an extra gun, and the change of clothes.

Fakir and Autor were both watching in awe that she had managed to cram that much equipment on her outfit.

"Quite a collection of daggers," Autor observed.

"Mytho gave me that set," Ahiru said, setting her daggers reluctantly down on the porch beside the rope. "Do I just leave them out here? I don't want them to be stolen."

"Under the doormat, then." Fakir answered.

Ahiru gave a heaving sigh, but she hid her daggers under the doormat. "The gun?"

"I'll take it," Autor volunteered. "Never can have too many weapons."

Ahiru was beginning to feel as if something was amiss, but she quickly brushed that feeling away as she handed the pistol to Autor. Let them think she was unarmed; it could only work to her advantage. "Well, I guess you'd better come inside," Fakir said, standing aside so that they could pass.

"No doubt about it," Autor muttered under his breath. "Assassin indeed."

"Sit," Fakir said brusquely, gesturing to the chair in what appeared to be his living room. His house had an almost spartan feel to it: clean, stark, and made for efficiency with as little adornment as possible. "Now tell me who you work for."

"That's not important," Ahiru said, folding her arms. "But his name is Mytho, if you're wondering. He's out to get you, Fakir. Fakir, you have to tell me what you know so far. How did you know that I was supposed to come after you?"

Fakir remained silent.

"Fine, you can tell me later," Ahiru conceded. "For now we have to figure out what to do. I'm on your side, Fakir, I promise."

"I need to check something," Autor said, rising abruptly and striding off down the hallway.

But all of Ahiru's attention had focused on Fakir. "You have to believe me. I'm your only hope to escape him."

"And why is that?" Fakir drawled. "I can fight my own battles."

"Because I know things that you don't, and you probably know more about why this woman wants to kill you than I do," Ahiru answered, leaning forward to catch his gaze. "If we work together, we might be able to save your life. And get revenge. Sound good?"

Fakir hesitated, a bit of his ice-cold demeanor slipping away, but said nothing.

"Please listen," Ahiru continued urgently, "we have to figure out how-"

Suddenly, Ahiru heard something heavy whizzing through the air towards her in the split second before a hard metal surface crashed into her head. She fell sideways off her chair, unconscious.


	9. Ch 9: Untold Plots and Half-Told Truths

[a/n] As much as is explained in this chapter, many more questions will arise. I will, however, take care to foreshadow plot twists.

**Ch 9: Untold Plots and Half-Told Truths**

Voices. Voices from who?

Ahiru sensed frustration and anxiety, but it was a while before she was able to regain awareness fully enough to comprehend the voices.

"Sorry about the frying pan," Autor was saying sheepishly. "It was all I could think of."

_Autor! You were the one who...wait, a frying pan...you hit me over the head with it, you jerk!_

And in that instant, Ahiru decided that she absolutely hated Autor for whacking her over the head with a frying pan, especially while her guard was down and she had been talking to Fakir.

"At least this danger has been dealt with," Fakir answered matter-of-factly. "Good call."

_What! Fakir...he's in on it too? So it wasn't just Autor being crazy?_

If possible, she hated Fakir even more.

But it was critical that she work her way out of this situation as soon as possible. Ahiru, trying to keep up a pretense of unconsciousness, discovered that she had been bound to a chair. A dull aching pain throbbed at the back of her head, and Ahiru was willing to bet that an egg-sized lump would form there soon.

_They didn't trust me from the start! They thought I was acting undercover to get close to Fakir and that I'm still trying to kill him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of all the ways to die_! She thought indignantly. She began flexing her wrists, trying to work through the rope. Unluckily, whoever had tied the rope around her wrists was an expert at this sort of thing. Luckily, Ahiru still had spare daggers hidden in her dress.

Pretending to be unconscious and cut through the bonds with the daggers would be difficult. However, all she needed was a moment when they both looked away. Until then, she would simply listen.

"The thing is, she's a very good liar," Fakir mused. The two were speaking in hushed tones, but Ahiru strained her ears to hear as much as she could. "She seemed as if she utterly meant everything she said, as odd as it sounds."

"Have to be careful with her type," Autor answered. "Slippery, at that. And she looks so innocent, too, as if she couldn't possibly be plotting anything more than giving you flowers for your birthday!"

"That's why she's so valuable, and it's highly unlikely she's working against her employer." Fakir reasoned quietly. "But why didn't she attack when she had the chance?"

The next part was inaudible, but Ahiru could clearly hear what came next: "Does Rue know that you're going to be here?"

"No." Fakir's voice became louder with confidence, as if he hadn't noticed it himself. "It was a sudden change in plans that almost no one knew about. Better that than walk into a death trap. Besides, this girl wasn't sent to my house...she was sent to the gala." Fakir leaned back in his chair, lost in his thoughts. "And now we have Mytho's best assassin."

"Boom. You're dead." Ahiru's clear voice interrupted Fakir's musings. Somehow she had cut through the rope to free her hands while Fakir and Autor had been engaged in conversation. Worse still, she had a gun aimed directly at his head.

Fakir's heart stopped beating and the world froze to a standstill with the threat of imminent death.

Autor tensed, and in a split second he had tackled Ahiru. They flew to the floor, Ahiru hitting him repeatedly on the head with the butt of the pistol and screaming something about payback. Autor, however, focused on getting the gun out of her grip.

"Stop it, you two!" Fakir yelled, almost as if attempting to separate two kindergarten children, but it had no effect.

With a well-aimed elbow to the face, Ahiru managed to stun Autor for a second and, as an indication of her triumph, press the pistol at his temple.

"Bitch!" Autor growled, a hand pressed to his now-bloody nose.

"Look," Ahiru said, her breaths coming harshly as she lowered the pistol, "I could have killed you both by now, got it? I keep on telling you that I'm _on your side_. Why won't you believe me?"

"What the hell! Why would you ever be on our side?" Autor said, frustrated as he tilted his head back, attempting to stop the bleeding. Regaining some semblance of calmness, he pushed Ahiru away roughly and stood. "Not that I'm complaining you didn't kill Fakir, or me, but still..."

"You're the ones who didn't trust me!" Ahiru said angrily, standing as well. "I _told_ you I was on your side! And you didn't listen, and we wasted a ton of time, and I'm still here trying to reason with you!"

"I'm going to go make sure my nose isn't broken," Autor said haughtily, turning on his heel to stride away.

"Tell us why you intend to help us. Trusting you would be an act of stupidity otherwise," Fakir said, his voice biting as he tried to hide his alarm. "I've known you were trying to kill me for a while now."

"Fine!" Ahiru shouted, hot tears starting in her eyes. "I just discovered today that my employer was not only cheating on me with another woman, but planning to kill me at midnight after he'd gotten me to finish you! Does that sound convincing?"

Fakir's eyes narrowed. "So you've come running after your boyfriend cheated on you? _That's_ why you've suddenly decided to help us?"

"I _hate_ you!" Ahiru burst out. "You don't have to put it _like that!_ I'm really trying to help!"

Autor reappeared, nose evidently not broken but bruised, just in time to make another snide remark.

"I would trust her on this," Autor said, a sarcastic edge in his voice. "Besides, there are levels of trust, and we can start out with a very, very _low_ level. And, of course, you can never have too much knowledge. She might be a useful source of information, even if three-quarters of it is false."

"You are insufferable!" Ahiru folded her arms. "I might be an assassin, but I'm not a liar. And yes, I'd be _very_ useful," Ahiru sniffed. "Much more useful than if you tied me up and tried to use me as hostage. Mytho doesn't care about me," she said harshly. "He'd just let me die and come after you himself."

"Hang on..." Autor said slowly. "Just wait a moment. So you cut through your bonds...and then aimed a gun at Fakir...does that mean that you still managed to hide _another_ gun and dagger somewhere on that dress?"

Ahiru shrugged. "And a change of clothes just in case I get tired of this stupid outfit," she added. "I think there's some rope in there too. Maybe some more daggers."

Fakir and Autor exchanged a glance of amazement.

"It's the simplest solution to anything," Ahiru said, feeling proud of herself. "You never know what might happen, and it's always a good idea to carry weapons around with you."

Autor stared into the distance as if he'd had an epiphany. "The simplest solution," he murmured. "The simplest solution." He leaned over to whisper in Fakir's ear, and Fakir's face became pale, an expression of frozen shock.

"What are you saying?" Ahiru demanded. "Tell me! Tell me NOW!"

"It's the best way to resolve everything," Autor said intently to Fakir. "It might even save your life."

"Are you sure you can pull it off?"

"I'll call you if the circumstances aren't right. We might need to improvise."

"Fine," Fakir nodded with some reluctance, as if the decision was a difficult one. "You're right, but I hadn't wanted to resort to this..."

"It's the only way. We'll end the conflict for good, in the only way possible." With that, Autor whispered something else, and Fakir glanced at Ahiru, then shook his head.

"Autor, I don't know about this." His voice dropped so that the rest was inaudible.

"Think of it this way," Autor answered. "It's a major gamble, but..."

"We're not, okay? Just the first part."

"I'll be on my way then." Autor stood and made his way to the door.

"You'd better not hit me with another frying pan or I'll return the favor! And this time, your nose _will_ be broken!" Ahiru called loudly, and was greeted with the door slamming shut as Autor departed.

"Why does she want to kill you?" Ahiru blurted at Fakir. "And what was _that_? What were you discussing?"

"What do you know about her?" Fakir demanded, deliberately evading her questions.

"I won't tell you unless you tell me," Ahiru said stubbornly.

"No. You first."

"Will you trust me if I tell you?" As soon as it flew from her lips, Ahiru knew that question was pointless.

"Yes." The unspoken assumption of levels of trust, however, went unsaid. "Fine then. We might as well sit rather than stand for a while." Fakir gestured to one of the chairs in his living room, and Ahiru nodded, having completely forgotten about sitting down.

Once they were both comfortably seated, that was when the entire story came out of Ahiru's mouth. Fakir never said a word, only listened. It was once she had finished, having talked for fifteen minutes, that she realized how little she had been able to share what she felt with Mytho. Their conversations had been short and goal-oriented. When was the last time they had a full-fledged discussion? For so long, Ahiru had kept silent, but now, with the freedom of being able to say whatever she wanted, she said _everything_.

Fakir drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. "You're a very formidable assassin, then, aren't you?"

"I think deadly might work better there."

"But you trusted Mytho for this entire time."

"Well, I...um..."

"Hell, even _I_ could have seen that coming."

Ahiru's mouth twisted with despair, and Fakir suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. "Hey, don't worry. That won't happen to you again, I promise."

"Thanks," Ahiru said quietly. Fakir listened for sarcasm, but could find none.

"Your turn!" Ahiru reminded him, brightening.

"Whatever," Fakir shrugged. "Here we go. I have a little sister, and her name is Rue. I'm guessing you've met her. And...she likes money. A lot. Unfortunately for her, our father, who was a successful businessman with millions, divided his money equally between us in his will."

"So half of that isn't enough for her?"

"Not really." Fakir's eyes darted to the left, deliberately avoiding Ahiru's gaze, and Ahiru got the feeling that there was more to this subject. "Anyway, he died about a month ago in an accident. A bit too convenient if you ask me, but it _was_ an accident."

"Wait..." Ahiru said slowly. "What was his name?"

"Charon Strauss."

Ahiru's eyes widened in sheer horror. _The businessman. Charon Strauss. The businessman with the serious brown eyes and graying hair. _She should have known that they were related. It was almost too horrible to be true.

Luckily, Fakir didn't seem to notice, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.

"I didn't figure out that Rue was after me as well until Autor came by for the second time."

"So you listened to him the second time?"

"The second time, he actually had evidence. You know, apparently he was Rue's fiancée, but she cheated on him with some dude. That dude was Mytho. Autor didn't say anything about it though, and he told me that Rue still thinks that he doesn't know. Instead, he started plotting revenge. And Autor...well, when he wants revenge, he gets it. First, though he did his research...he kept track of Rue and her new boyfriend."

"You mean stalked them? Why? Does he stalk all his ex-girlfriends?"

"Fiancée, for one. And two, you're hardly one to talk," Fakir scoffed. "I'm sure you're quite the stalker yourself."

"Hey!"

"You probably stalked me all the time, even when you didn't have to." Fakir shrugged nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at the angry flush spreading on Ahiru's face. "Just for fun, you know? And guess what: I bet you didn't even know that _you_ were the one being stalked."

Ahiru looked ready to hit _him _over the head with a frying pan, so Fakir quickly changed the subject. "Autor discovered some shady things going on, and eventually Autor came to suspect that Mytho and Rue were behind the suspicious deaths that had been occurring recently. By _keeping track_ - not stalking - the two, he found out that Rue regularly met with Mytho, and by following Mytho he could see that he was coming to your shop."

Ahiru's breath froze in her chest. Those suspicious deaths...had been _her_ doing.

"Autor did a bit more digging. It didn't make sense until we saw that you, a seemingly innocent store-keeper, had also been the same bumbling girl who came to ballet class at my company and did suspicious things. We had our theories, and Autor guessed that there was a 65% chance that you had been sent to kill me. There was also a probability that Mytho was employing more than one agent."

"So that's why you wouldn't die!" Ahiru exclaimed.

"And, if I die, Rue gets everything that I'm supposed to inherit. A couple of well-timed deaths have tied the whole thing up in bureaucratic red tape until she can get to killing me." _My doing_, Ahiru realized. "But I have to die in a way that doesn't look like she tried to kill me. Meaning, if it's an unexplained shooting, her inheritance is cast into doubt. Nevertheless, for her it was something like a golden opportunity."

"And you didn't expose any of this to the police."

"I'll get to that later." Fakir's expression darkened. "Instead, we were planning to arrange for an accident. Tonight, actually."

"What accident? Mytho's also planning an accident, I'll bet!"

"We can't worry about that now."

"You're right," Ahiru sighed. "He's too careful to set off a bomb or set the place on fire without making sure you're there first."

"So you suspect a bombing or arson."

"I was planning to engineer a bombing," Ahiru admitted, earning a glare from Fakir. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"Don't think about it." Fakir commanded. "Just don't."

Ahiru looked down, weighed down with guilt. The terrible truth sank in her chest.

She had killed Fakir's father. He had been only another target at the time, but now...

"Well, don't you look depressed," Fakir remarked dryly.

"Ah, um, yes." Ahiru knew she should apologize, or something - but she had no idea of how to do so, and shied away from mentioning the subject. "So, ah, can you explain why you didn't tell the police about what Rue's been planning?"

"Long story short, blackmail. And lots of it."

* * *

The blonde woman hurried down the stairs, swinging the mace in her grip. She had taken a risk, indeed, with this new deceit...but it could not be helped. The plan had been derailed already - too early for that! - with the absence of her target.

If he didn't turn up soon, she might need to do a little traveling.


	10. Ch 10: Fakir's Fake Fiancée

[A/N] In which Lillie becomes a rumor-creating machine, and a good number of the party guests are _very_ gullible. Also, Ahiru and Fakir bickering, just for fun.

**Ch 10: Fakir's Fake Fiancée**

"Ever wondered how I became the youngest CEO of this company?" Fakir said bitterly. "I was named to be the successor when the former CEO was at a ripe old age of fifty-one, but I didn't wait for his retirement. Long story short, I caused his death."

Ahiru stared back, speechless for a moment. "So you're an assassin too? Gosh, this keeps getting better and better."

Fakir shifted uncomfortably, as if beginning to rethink telling her this story. "That doesn't really matter much. Anyway, it was suspicious, yes. But no one could prove anything. And Rue knew it all."

"How? Wait, so _this_ is why you didn't expose any of that sketchy stuff to the police!"

"Yes. It was blackmail. I still remember her phone call. She told me that she had the evidence to put me in jail for the rest of my life, that she could not only prove that I had killed the CEO but also frame me for crimes I hadn't committed. She's very cunning, you see. She knew that if I turned her in, I would be assuring my doom. So I kept quiet, and so did she."

"Sounds terrible," Ahiru said grimly. "I don't like this Rue character at all. Raven-black hair, pale skin, and maroon eyes, right?"

"Yup, that's Rue. She's the one your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with, huh?" Fakir said, not unkindly. "No wonder you don't like her."

The silence was broken by the buzzing of Fakir's phone, and quickly he answered. Ahiru could barely distinguish Autor's voice, tense and quiet, on the other end of the line.

"I see," Fakir answered, and with a final nod he ended the call.

"We need to go to the gala," Fakir said suddenly.

"Why?" Ahiru said. "That's kind of stupid, you know. Mytho's probably waiting there. Or, in the very least, he's waiting for you to arrive so he can execute his plan."

"I'm _well_ aware," Fakir scowled. "He probably knows already that I haven't gone to the gala. My house will be his next stop. Better go there than wait here like sitting ducks. I didn't say I was sick, if you were wondering. I just told the coordinators that I might not be able to come due to family circumstances."

"That's actually quite brilliant," Ahiru said, feeling impressed. "Considering that it isn't a lie."

"When I show up," Fakir continued, "it will be a pleasant surprise."

"No," Ahiru protested. "At the gala, several people will be there. If anything, more casualties will result if we end up facing off against Mytho. He'll kill them just to get to you. At worst, he might even resort to a mass shooting, just to cause your death and mine amidst many others, excluding the possibility of a bombing or arson. That's assuming he even _is_ there. There's no reason to go."

"Do you have Mytho's number?"

"Yes..."

"Can I call him?"

For a moment, Ahiru simply blinked at Fakir. "Call Mytho. From my phone. Please tell me you have a better plan than that."

"I am being entirely serious."

"There's no point. He won't pick up! I know him _much_ better than you do," Ahiru huffed. "After what just happened, there's no way."

"You'd be surprised," Fakir answered lightly. "Now dial his number and give me your phone."

Puzzled and incredibly curious, Ahiru did as he asked. Her cellphone in hand, Fakir stood and strode out of the room.

"Hey!" Ahiru said crossly. "What's so important that I can't hear what you're saying? Come back here! FAKIR!"

He turned back towards her with a full-on glare that said, _shut up, idiot. _Much to her surprise, she could hear Mytho's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Mytho," she heard Fakir say, and then his voice became quieter and quieter until she couldn't hear anything at all. He paced out of her view through the hallways, attempting to escape from her though she followed him doggedly. As soon as he had finished the call, Ahiru was standing in his path, fuming.

"What's the deal, huh?" she demanded. "Tell me!"

"It's settled, we're going to the gala," Fakir said briskly, as if that answered her question. "Might want to pack those weapons back into your dress while I get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Fakir, how many times do I have to tell you? What you're planning is plain stupid! You can't trust Mytho! He'd sooner kill you than make a deal! You said it yourself: this is a death trap! You just can't trust him!"

"We don't have to," Fakir answered, as if this explained everything.

"Then tell me what's going on! I can be helpful, you know!"

Fakir hardly listened to her as he sprinted up the stairs. Ahiru, unwilling to follow him, gave a heaving sigh. "Fine, moron," she muttered to herself, stomping away. Suddenly, remembering something, she stopped in her tracks.

"Wait, do you have skates?" Ahiru called. "Apparently it's on ice! And do you know how to ice skate?"

"We were told a couple of months in advance so we could practice!" Fakir grumbled back. "Of course I know how! I think I have an extra pair of skates, but don't expect them to fit too well."

'Not fitting too well' turned out to be a huge understatement.

* * *

"Are you armed?" Ahiru whispered in Fakir's ear as they drove to the gala. "Do you need to borrow a weapon or two?"

Fakir raised his chin as if the question had been an affront to his manliness. "Of course."

"Can you do close combat? Meaning, if things take a turn for the worst, do I need to protect you?"

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much!" Fakir snapped, jerking the steering wheel sharply. "I don't need you to protect me!"

"We'll see about that," Ahiru said under her breath, earning another glare from Fakir. "By the way, I think one of my daggers is missing," she observed, with mild concern. "I couldn't find it!"

"Course you couldn't," Fakir answered, eyes on the road. "Not when there's too many to count."

"Hey! I only have about six total!" Ahiru protested.

"Probably just missed it." Fakir shrugged, although there was an odd, pained expression on his face. "All right. Here we are." He turned towards her suddenly. "Ahiru, do you have any pistols on you?"

"Of course."

"How many?"

"Uh...two? Wait. No. I might have snatched one from Autor when he wasn't looking. Make that three."

Fakir scowled as he backed into the parking space. "Don't take any of them with you."

"Why not?" Ahiru fumed. "What about the last time you told me to not take any weapons? I ended up getting knocked out! You honestly think I'd trust you?"

"Noise," Fakir answered grimly. "If one of those goes off, we're doomed."

"Well, I'm taking one anyway. Can't hurt."

"Trust me, Ahiru!" Fakir leapt out and slammed the car door shut as if wishing he could leave Ahiru behind. "Leave the pistols here!"

* * *

They walked up the stairs, and right before the massive, regal doors, Ahiru knelt to put on her skates.

"No," Fakir said suddenly. "This building is organized so that there's a skating rink, specifically designed for grand parties, on the ground floor, and a theater below. I have to dance for the crowd. They're going to expect me to perform, remember?"

"But..." Ahiru looked at Fakir's decidedly formal dress. "Are you wearing something suitable?"

"You're not the only one who can hide extra outfits in your clothes," Fakir returned. "If you can hide a weapons shop in that frilly skirt, I can at least hide a couple of things in my suit."

"But what about Mytho? When you're alone on the stage, it's a perfect opportunity for him to take you out."

"He won't," Fakir smirked. "But just in case, I want you to be backstage."

"So when are they going to ask you to perform?"

"Near the end of the gala, when everyone's tired of skating. I remember them telling me that I could join the skating and such, but at about ten-thirty to join the performers at the grand theater that's upstairs. Fifteen minutes afterwards, everyone will be directed to the seats to watch the show."

"All right. What about Mytho?"

"What about him?"

Ahiru elbowed Fakir in the ribs. It hurt more than he would have like to admit. "You called him. Is he going to be here? What about Autor? And what's the secret plan? I have to know so I can be on the lookout."

"Well, first I have to find Lysander, the coordinator, and tell him I'm here."

Throughly unconvinced, Ahiru sulked. "You're really suspicious, you know that?"

"Thanks. Anyway, don't put them on here. Wait till we're inside. Just so you know what's happening."

"I hate these shoes," Ahiru grumbled out of nowhere. "I can't even walk. And they're _much _too big."

"Be quiet!" Fakir hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard, although no one else was near the entrance. "You can't say things like that!"

"I can and I will!" Ahiru said loudly, feeling empowered.

"Shush! We're going to be arriving late, and it'll draw some attention." Fakir glanced towards the entrance. "Try to look...uh, like you belong. Okay?"

"I'm an expert at that," Ahiru flashed a radiant smile. "Just watch."

* * *

Nothing could be further from the truth. A single step on the ice, and Ahiru felt like she would trip and land on her face. Even worse, everyone seemed to naturally glide across the vast expanse of silvery white ice like fairies. The place seemed to have been specifically designed for many people; there was more than enough space to accommodate the skaters, as many as there were, and the ceiling curved into a grand arch above their heads.

Ahiru would have enjoyed the spectacle much more had she known how to skate. Against her better judgement and despite his miffed expression, she clutched at Fakir's arm.

"You're cutting off the circulation in my arm," Fakir complained. "Quit it!"

"You idiot, I don't know how to skate!" Ahiru hissed back. "I have absolutely _no idea_! I intended to stay _off_ _the ice_! If it comes to a combat situation, I'll end up being a liability and that's a problem!"

And not only was it incredibly difficult to stay upright, but it was _cold_. Clad in only a delicate, backless white dress that barely covered her legs, Ahiru couldn't help but start shivering. Looking around, she saw that everyone had dressed much more warmly. Most of the gowns were made of material specifically designed for skating, and several of the ladies had warm shawls wrapped around their shoulders.

"Fa-Fa-Fakir!" Ahiru's teeth chattered, and she momentarily let go of his arm to rub warmth into her shoulders. Mistake. She abruptly plummeted towards the hard ice, and would have fallen had Fakir not caught her by the upper arm and hauled her back to a standing position."How come they didn't say...it...would be so _cold_?"

"It's on ice, idiot." Fakir said briskly. "Ice is cold. So, something on ice will be cold. Obviously."

"This is terrible," Ahiru grumbled. "I knew we shouldn't have come! I can't even protect you here!"

"I don't need to be protected." Fakir's hard emerald gaze swept their surroundings, and in that moment Ahiru absolutely believed him.

"But where's Mytho?" Ahiru asked. "Weren't we going to meet or something?" Growing anxious, she tugged on his arm. "He could kill us all, Fakir. You know I'm putting my life in your not-so-capable hands now, right?"

She let go of his arm, took a tentative step forward, and pitched face-first onto the ice. Fakir, in panic, grabbed at her arm again, but this time they both plummeted to the ground, earning a bevy of disapproving looks.

"This is hopeless," Fakir muttered, and Ahiru clambered back to her feet slowly. As he watched her, Fakir sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're safe," he said finally. "Mytho won't attack."

* * *

Their entrance had drawn curious glances and whispers from across the ice. "I feel like I'm being stared at," Ahiru confided.

"If you enter looking like this, of course people are going to look at you," Fakir muttered. Ahiru blinked, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult, and Fakir deliberately avoided her gaze. He quickly coughed and continued, "People don't know who you are, but they do know me. They're wondering about your identity."

"Can I make up a fake name? _Please_?" Before Fakir could answer, a question surprised them both.

"And who is _this_ young lady?" Someone exclaimed from behind them.

"Pleased to meet you," Ahiru said, as grandly as she could while the cold bit into her skin, "I'm...uh...Tutu."

How in the world had she managed to come up with such a stupid name? Fakir shot her a skeptical look, which she was sure to ignore.

"I haven't seen you before! Nice to meet you! I'm Freya," the blonde girl smiled, extending a hand primly. "And Fakir! It seems that you haven't told me about her!"

Lillie was watching from some distance away. Ahiru had arrived...on Fakir's arm? No, more like tightly clinging to Fakir's arm. This was the perfect opportunity! After Ahiru and Fakir had skated away and were conversing quietly, Lillie skated up to Freya. Luckily, Lillie already knew how to skate and could do so with little difficulty.

"Did you know those two are getting married next June? They're so shy about it! I couldn't believe it at first either!" Maybe Lillie had overdone it. But one look at Freya's ecstatic face, and she knew that she had pulled it off perfectly.

"They are?" Freya exclaimed. "What a surprise!"

"You should have been there when he proposed. It was just magical, even though she started choking on the diamond ring hidden in the s'more, and it turned out that she'd actually swallowed it, and then the two took a romantic trip to the emergency room," Lillie added in an excited whisper.

..."she _swallowed_ the ring? And it was in a s'more?" Obviously, Freya was storing this tale in her mind to recount during later gossip.

"Yes!" Lillie clasped her hands together. "Poor girl, it was _hidden_ in the s'more and she swallowed it whole without even noticing! She almost _died_, as a matter of fact, because of their love! And, guess what? All this happened in a _library_, where you're especially not supposed to bring food!" Lillie knew this was going a little far, but Freya's eyes widened in genuine surprise as Lillie continued. "Apparently they have a tradition of doing forbidden things in forbidden places..."

Freya's jaw went slack.

"...like eating food in a library, which is a _big_ no-no. When she started choking, everyone looked up from their books, and then, well, it was just the most romantic proposal ever! You should help me spread the joyous news - it only happened a couple days ago!" Lillie laughed. "They have to know that the world supports their love, tragic and hilarious as it may be!"

Stage one of her plan: complete.

"Is that true?" Another two women were listening curiously.

"That's Fakir for you," she heard a whisper. "How come none of _us_ knew when he was available?"

"It turns out he has a fiancée!"

"Was he _that_ stupid enough to put a ring inside a s'more and expect her to not swallow it? And in a _library_?"

"For some reason, I can almost visualize it." Turning back, Lillie saw that a small crowd had gathered around them already, curiously listening to her every word.

"Oh, it's all true!" Lillie said, looking off into the air dramatically as she gestured at Ahiru and Fakir, who were talking in hushed tones. "And you know what? They like to pretend they aren't engaged, those two. But, when they're around just each other, they have the most adorable pet names to ever exist!"

"Like what?" A nearby skater asked curiously.

"Ah..." Lillie thought quickly. "Ah, um, strawberry-marshmallow-honeycakes!" Inwardly, she groaned. What idiots would believe _that_?

Apparently, the same people who believed the choking-on-an-engagement-ring-hidden-in-a-s'more-i n-the-middle-of-a-library story. Which was to say, everyone.


	11. Attempt 3: A Million Shards of Glass

**[A/N]** A nod to the Princess Bride with the appearance of Mr. Cat. You'll see what I mean.

**Attempt 3: A Million Shards of Glass**

Ahiru felt like she was about to freeze to death, and it wasn't helping that she was forced to use Fakir as a lifeline. Not that he was of much help. He wasn't protesting, but his glares let her know exactly what he was thinking.

"Let's go outside! Or something!" She would have done so herself had she not known that a painful, embarrassing fall awaited her. "Why aren't you listening? Can't you take off your jacket? I'm super cold!"

"No, idiot. Do me a favor and shut up."

"Why are you so grouchy? I'm the one who should be grouchy! And I am! Because it's really cold!"

"Look, I need to be on high alert right now. I can't be bothered with you."

"I hate you!"

"Yeah, likewise."

Four women, each in equally magnificent skating costumes, skated gracefully up to them. "Congratulations on your engagement!" One of them exclaimed.

Fakir blinked at the women, not fully comprehending what was going on. Due to the sheer cold and difficulty with balancing, Ahiru didn't even register what they had said.

"Yeah, congratulations, Director Strauss!" One of the others smiled. "You should invite us to your wedding!"

"Next time, don't put the ring inside something edible," one of the women muttered under her breath. With that, they skated away into the crowd. Fakir stared after them, realization dawning on him. _An engagement? _And what was that about a ring inside something edible?

"Fakir, you should give me your jacket," Ahiru complained loudly. "I'm so, so cold. I can't even think! Where's Mytho? And Autor? FAKIR! You're ignoring me! Hey! I thought we were supposed to be working together on this! I can't trust you if you don't tell me what's going on! And gosh, it's really cold!"

Fakir gave no reply, and Ahiru only tightened her grip on his arm, attempting to persuade him to listen. As Fakir listened, he heard giggling behind them and whispers from across the ice. _An engagement?_ Something to do with _s'mores_?

Just great. What had gotten that into their heads?

Another five minutes and Fakir became completely sure. Judging from the whispers and stolen glances, there was a rumor going around that they were to be married. Idiots. Fakir usually dealt with rumors with his usual cold, aloof treatment, and he would do the same here.

Ahiru, of course, remained completely oblivious, whining even louder and tugging on his arm doggedly.

"Oh, no." Suddenly, Fakir's eyes widened in panic. "Mr. Cat!"

"That is the oddest name that I've ever heard of," Ahiru grumbled, looking at the middle-aged man who Fakir seemed to regard with such horror.

"Quick, we have to go before he gets to us!" Fakir yanked on her arm. "Start skating before he come over here!"

"Why is this such a big deal-"

"No time to explain! Now go!"

Fakir cast another frenzied look at Mr. Cat, who seemed to be moving slowly toward them. "Okay, then." He took both of her hands in his, attempting to give her a crash course in skating.

"Don't keep looking down, idiot! Keep your joints relaxed. Lean forward, bend your knees slightly. Hey, you're sticking your butt out. Don't do that. It looks odd. Stand up straight. Okay, now attempt to take a small step. Another one."

Ahiru tried, but the cold had thoroughly chilled her to the bone and her movements were hesitant. Fakir's gaze became worried for the first time, and in a ludicrous instant he considered scooping her up and skating away as quickly as he could to escape Mr. Cat.

"Moving will warm you. You'll see." He continued talking. "Come on. You're doing a terrible job at it, so you can only get better."

Ahiru's eyes flashed up at him in a moment of clarity. "Why are we here, Fakir? I'm freezing. Let's go outside. Better yet, downstairs to the theater. I'm sure it's warmer. We have a better chance against Mytho there."

"Quick, skate! We have to go!" Fakir pleaded, and, with a sudden dash of desperation, added: "I see Lysander. If we can talk to him, then we can get off the ice."

"Off the ice? Well then, you just go talk to Lysander and get that over with!" Ahiru cried. "I'll stay here, but as soon as I can I'm getting away from this place!"

"You'll fall without me, idiot. Don't be even more stupid than you already are."

"I want to get off the ice as soon as possible. Now go talk to Lysander!" With a last, hesitant glance at Mr. Cat, Fakir obligingly disentangled his arm from hers and skated gracefully away to talk to Lysander.

Ahiru took one step forward, forgetting just how large the shoes had been for her feet, and tripped again, this time landing hard on her tailbone. Well, _ouch_. Should she even _try_ to get up again?

"Aw, poor Ahiru!" A familiar voice giggled from beside her.

"Lillie?" The girl in question looked stunning - clad in a one-shouldered dress that flickered with shades of green. Lillie was sitting next to her, presumably having slipped as well. Or perhaps just sitting there out of sympathy. They must have looked an odd sight, two scantily clad girls sitting on the freezing-cold ice in the midst of the rest of the skaters, who weaved past them with graceful ease.

"Darling, you must tell me everything!" Lillie squealed. "So, how goes it with our Director? I've already given you some help along the way!"

"Help?...what help?"

"MY CONGWATULATIONS TO YOU ON THE IMPENDING MAHWIDGE!" Ahiru looked up, shivering and half-frozen with horror and cold, to see Mr. Cat.

"Oh, she's ever so joyous!" Lillie cooed, ignoring Ahiru. "You wouldn't _believe_ the time she spends planning her wedding. I swear, it's all she thinks about, day and night! You know, even though it's several months away, she told me that she's dreamed of it at least a dozen times already!"

"A we-we-wedding? Are you i-insane?" Ahiru stuttered, still in shock as she sat on the ice trying not to rub her arms for warmth.

"It's all wight, because mahwidge is the gweatest thing to exist!" Mr. Cat said, savoring each word thoroughly. He spread his arms out as if to embrace a gigantic tree. "Mahwidge is a sacwed, beautiful, wuvley, institution! And twue wuv shall follow you fowever!"

"Bu-but I 'm not-"

"Of couwse! No one is prepawed for mahwidge," Mr. Cat said sympathetically. "But I wish you wuv and happiness fowever!" Ahiru blinked, mouth opening and closing in a loss of words. _If only I could disappear,_ she thought, desperate to get out of this situation. _I'm stuck with two delusional people who are living in some fantasy dreamland. Of course one of these people has to be Lillie._

"But the wing?" Mr. Cat asked. "Where is it?"

"The wing?" Ahiru asked. "Wait, what?"

Lillie, however, immediately understood. "The truth is," Lillie said, in a confidential tone as she rose to her knees to dust her dress off and stand, "she lost the ring! Poor thing, she can't even speak right now because she's so heartbroken! So, the poor dear went snorkeling, and then a school of fish came by! In the frenzy of fish, one of them simply ate her engagement ring off her finger! And she couldn't do a thing about it, because when she saw that it had disappeared, the school of fish simply swam away! You know, she goes fishing in that area sometimes, and cries each time she cuts open a fish and it doesn't have her ring in it."

Ahiru could do nothing but stare at Lillie and shake her head with disgust. Had her friend always been this evil?

"I'm so sowy," Mr. Cat began, a hand over his heart. He was taking care to pronounce each word fully, which would have been appreciated had he actually made any sense. "At weast you'll live a dweam within a dweam, pewfect with twue wuv fow the west of your wife, and-"

Ahiru, who had given up trying to talk sense into these two, resorted to rubbing her shoulders as quickly as she could. She couldn't feel her bottom anymore, from having sat on the ice for so long, and slowly she began to inch away surreptitiously. Maybe, if she crawled away slowly enough, neither would notice...

"Come on," a sharp voice cut in, and a firm grip tightened around Ahiru's waist and yanked her to her feet. "Let's go." Without further ado, Fakir made sure that Ahiru had held on to him securely and left.

"Th-thank you," Ahiru said gratefully, happy to be rid of Lillie and Mr. Cat, but Fakir looked straight ahead.

"Don't mention it. We've got to focus."

* * *

They had exited the grand skating rink, and immediately came to a wide set of dark stairs that led to the floor below, which was presumably underground. The moment Ahiru set foot on solid ground she yanked her arm away from Fakir.

"Where are we going?" Ahiru demanded. It was still very cold, but at least she could walk. "I'm not coming with you unless you tell me!"

"Ahiru, there's no time to explain!"

"I'm sick of being dragged around like a stupid sack of potatoes!" Ahiru said, not bothering to keep her voice quiet. She had adopted a wide stance, hand hovering at the hem of her dress and ready to snatch a weapon. "And every moment you remain here, and _especially_ when you go places alone, you're in even greater danger. You don't even know that Mytho's here! This entire place could be blown sky-high in seconds."

"I know he's here." Fakir said. "Ahiru-" An odd look crossed his face.

"I won't accept your fake reasoning anymore!"

"Well, firstly, I won't be expected to perform for twenty minutes. I asked if I could go down there to warm up, and apparently there's almost nobody there yet, but it's allowed. But the important thing is," Fakir said fiercely, "there's something you should know."

"So _now_ you're telling me," Ahiru muttered. "Finally. That's smart."

* * *

Mytho, hidden behind a velvet curtain, absently twirled a spear in his hand as he held his cellphone to his ear with the other. The other end of the line picked up almost instantly.

"You're coming?" Mytho asked, wasting no time with trivialities.

"I'm here, actually, waiting until the right time to intervene."

"Very well. I'm at the theater, near the stage. I will say this now: If your intervention is tardy enough to put my life in danger, you will regret it," Mytho said smoothly.

"The timing will be perfect." A trace of a smug smile lingered in the voice. "No worries."

"Stay on the line," Mytho ordered. "I'll ask you to execute the first part of our plan in less than five minutes. Hopefully, this is all it will take. Be prepared in case not."

* * *

"Come on," Ahiru said, without hesitation. "At least let's stop loitering around these stairs and make it backstage." Fakir followed her, and they both descended down the stairs into a grand theater, with plush velvet seats, an enormous, sparkling chandelier that hung like a fantastic sea monster overhead, and a vast, empty stage. Only a couple of stage lights were on, and the theater felt strangely hollow absent of murmuring voices and fluttering chatter.

"It's beautiful." Ahiru smiled faintly, wonder reflected in her eyes. Fakir marveled at her delight for a moment.

"You know what's also beautiful?"

"What?" Wide, blue eyes blinked back at him innocently.

"Staying alive. Quit dawdling."

* * *

Finally. Mytho's eyes narrowed. Fakir, the target, and Ahiru, the failed assassin, striding down the aisles towards the stage. Perfect.

"I see them. Is this the time?"

"Now," Mytho murmured.

* * *

"I know him better than you do," Ahiru paused, studying their surroundings with a suspicious gaze. "If I know Mytho, he's got something planned. Something else."

"Ahiru, come on. Let's just go so I can warm up." Fakir began walking hurriedly towards the stage.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" Fakir kept walking, but Ahiru had the feeling that something was off as she listened intently.

"That sound-"

-almost as if something had exploded, and directly above their heads, where there was -

Not bothering to answer, Ahiru looked straight up at the ceiling. Her eyes widened with horror as she saw a million of shards of glass, each with the lethal precision of a knife, hurtling directly towards her head.

**[A/N]** Yes. The chandelier is now falling on top of Ahiru. Make of that what you will :)


	12. Ch 12: Triple Crossed!

**Chapter 12: Triple-Crossed!**

Ahiru had no chance of making it out of there alive if she ran, but her instincts took over. Immediately, she tucked her limbs into a ball and rolled beneath a nearby seat in a flurry of movement. She reached up and pulled the chair seat over her head just as the first shards of glass struck the floor. Even with her small build, she was barely able to fit in the space between the chair seat and the ground.

She could feel the ground reverebrate with the impact when the huge chandelier thumped onto the floor, sending glass flying everywhere. Ahiru made herself as small as possible, but she could still feel deep cuts from the flying glass on her exposed arm and legs. If she had been completely unshielded, she would have been killed for sure.

_Fakir._ She remembered how he had hurried away. He had known this would happen. Had she been double crossed again? Ahiru's mouth tightened into a grimace, and a numb fury overtook her. Tricked. _Again_. Just when she'd thought she knew eveything, the stupid idiot had _tricked_ her.

No more trusting, Ahiru decided. Not ever again.

But right now, she had to think about escape. Her hiding place was closed on three sides with what remained of the chandelier - metal frame with splintered glass hanging down from it - and her only path of escape was littered with sharp, icy glass. In fact, she realized, most of the theater probably was. It would take weeks before this place was suitable to perform in again.

She gingerly inspected her wounds. Not bad, she decided. A number of long, deep scratches on her legs, none of which hurt too badly by her standards, another two along her cheek and across her jaw, and several on the arm that had been holding the chair seat down. Not to mention the bits of glass that were scattered in the wounds, and the fact that she had numerous, small scratches all over and probably looked a mess...Ahiru brushed that thought away. She would worry about it later, for this was no time for weakness.

* * *

Fakir surveyed the theater, noting that it had just become unusable for weeks. His eyes scanned the wreckage, but he could see no movement.

"Thank you, Fakir." Mytho said from beside him. "How charming of you to suddenly change heart."

"Do you think she's dead?"

"No," Mytho answered with complete certainty. "My Ahiru wouldn't allow herself to die _here_. This served two purposes: one, to weaken her, and two, to make sure we have an appropriate barrier to ensure that partygoers don't intrude on our fun."

Fakir scowled at Mytho's use of _'my_' Ahiru. "They'll be coming in a moment. People will hear the crash and wonder what happened."

"Don't worry," Mytho smiled. "No one will be coming for a while."

"One more thing," Fakir said, eyes narrowed. "You said we had an agreement. This was not part of it."

"I am perfectly aware," Mytho purred, hands in his pockets, "of what we agreed. That you would fake your own death, allowing Rue access to the money, and bring me the failed assassin in exchange for your life." He paused, staring straight ahead with an amused mauve gaze. "Fakir, you have been just as foolish...just as gullible...as our lovely Ahiru."

That was when Fakir felt the whir of a weapon in the air behind him, and he spun around.

"Where's my-" he blinked in confusion, reaching for his pistol but finding empty air. All words were lost, however, as the weapon came swinging at his face and he hit the floor, barely missing a painful hit to his jaw. His eyes widened as he saw the identity of the attacker.

"Take the fight backstage," Mytho ordered with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "I want to be here, alone, when Ahiru clambers out of the wreckage."

Fakir was given no time to respond, as he was quickly driven back with a series of blows that he narrowly managed to evade. The attacker smiled, as if enjoying this game but knowing that victory was inevitable.

Fakir scanned the surroundings for some weapon he could use. Luckily, the backstage area was filled with props that must have been used for earlier performances. Atop a couch, he spotted a sturdy-looking wooden cane. In the moment he had been distracted, a blow hit, and Fakir doubled over in pain. Regaining his senses, he sprinted backstage and hefted the weapon in his palm.

It was then, when he was hidden in the darkness backstage, that he saw Ahiru, who looked something like an avenging angel - that or a character at a high school prom horror movie - as she rose from the sparkling debris. Glass crunched under her shoes, and still she strode ahead, paying no heed to the wreckage surrounding her. She was covered with cuts and scratches all over, and her white dress had been bloodied and torn. If anything, she seemed stronger than ever despite her state, as if being wounded only made her more dangerous.

* * *

"Welcome, Ahiru." Mytho's grin was undeniable, and he inclined his head charmingly at her. "You look as gorgeous as ever."

Ahiru stuck her tongue out in a decidedly childish act. "Before I kill you, tell me this: are you working with Fakir?"

"Did you _trust_ him?" Mytho asked in a patronizing tone. "Darling, you don't mean to tell me that you actually _thought_ he was on your side? Fakir wants nothing more than to save himself, Ahiru. He doesn't care about you. But you, ever the naive and stupid thing that you are, thought of _working together_. You might have even decided you'd found yourself a better partner than me, hm?"_  
_

His statement was true to the point that Ahiru was forced to remain silent. "I see," Mytho purred. "Lets _you_ do the dirty work, then. Do you know, Ahiru, exactly how many lies you might have been told by now? How many times you've been deceived?"

Ahiru swallowed, loathing and fear rising in her chest. "I..I despise you," she said hoarsely, and she meant it. "You evil-"

"This man is no exception," Mytho cut in sharply, watching her squirm. "You are disposable, Ahiru, and everyone knows it."

That was when Ahiru, with a desperate cry of anger, lunged towards him with two daggers in hand, ready to kill him at all costs.

"Well, then." Mytho said teasingly, swooping down to the floor to pick up the spear that had been lying at his feet. "I suppose it's time for a duel. I think that guns would make the fight too quick, don't you? Besides, it's time to test your technique." As unornamented and plain as the spear was, Ahiru knew that Mytho possessed unparalleled skill with it, perhaps surpassing her own.

He easily repelled her attack, using the spear as a defense to meet the daggers, knock her off balance, and send her reeling back. Ahiru came at him again and fought madly, attempting to get past his defenses with every attack she knew - every attack that he had ever taught her. He spun the spear expertly in his hands, using it as a shield, and watched through the clang of metal as she became more and more infuriated without ever dealing a single blow.

"I haven't attacked you once." His voice dripped with malice. "You know you're no match for me. Let's make things a bit more difficult, shall we?"

Ahiru, trying to catch her breath, nodded. She watched him carefully, but he betrayed no hint of his future attacks. A slight tensing in his shoulders, and then-

Ahiru dropped to the floor, nearly avoiding the spear that had swept in an arc intended to behead her. The spear descended on her with a vicious precision, and she rolled sideways, barely missing the would-be fatal blow.

"Out of practice? Let me tell you why," Mytho hissed. "It's because you allowed yourself to grow weak! No longer are you the cold-blooded assassin! Instead, in her place, a mushy sap who can't think straight!"

He struck again at the floor, where she was crouched, and this time Ahiru sprang into the air like a cat rather than roll sideways. Mytho yanked on the spear, momentarily stuck in the wooden floor, without avail. As Ahiru descended through the air, Mytho let go of the spear and scuttled backwards. She landed lightly, an wide smile spreading across her face as his back came to a wall. He watched her, violet eyes narrowed and breathing fast, not daring to move.

And, without further ado and an incoherent cry of rage, Ahiru threw her dagger directly at his face.

The whir of metal whistled through the air, and Ahiru paused, listening, for something was _off_ somehow - as if there was _more_ than one dagger flying through the air. And then, out of nowhere, something crashed into Ahiru from the side, something heavy and sharp and huge. Ahiru crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe, and she felt the crack of a rib snapping in her chest. She looked up just in time to see the dagger she had thrown, intercepted by..._another dagger?_ Yes, it had been thrown so perfectly that it knocked Ahiru's off course, and both daggers harmlessly dropped to the ground.

But she had no time to think about that - for her fingers clutching at her side came away dripping with blood, and she felt lightheaded, paralyzed, dizzy with pain -

- and suddenly a familiar voice spoke, words tinged with malice.

**[a/n]** so, who do we think it is? A virtual cookie and a high five for the person who gets it right!


End file.
